To Find Absolution
by PaddlingDingo
Summary: Warden Alistair is lost in the Fade. The weight of the decisions weigh heavily on Inquisitor Cadash, as she struggles to come to terms with the loss of Alistair and the trial of Thom Rainier. Warden Amell, Kieran, and one other have dreams of Alistair in the Fade. Could he be alive? If so, it will take the greatest spirit healer in Thedas to ensure his survival.
1. A Good Man

"Your father… was a good man." Morrigan's voice drifted up from the courtyard below as Zaire Cadash passed nearby, hurrying back to her quarters after stabling her horse. The sun had dropped below the edges of the mountains, plunging the courtyards of Skyhold into a gloomy twilight.

She resisted the urge to slow her stride and kept moving, unsure if she could keep it together if she had to hear the reply. She swallowed, choking back the emotion that she felt sneaking in. I'm the Inquisitor. I can't afford any more emotion after the last few days.

As if on cue, she passed a scout. "Inquisitor," he said, nodding to her. She nodded back. No amount of time would make her feel comfortable with everyone noticing her everywhere she went. Back in the Carta, being noticed was a liability. She couldn't afford to look weak, couldn't afford to break down. Pulling herself up straighter, she reminded herself to focus, to show only strength where others could see her. Especially after her judgment of Thom Rainier the day previous, which she worried that some in Skyhold would have an issue with. Then again, if they didn't like it, they could walk in her boots. Being Inquisitor was not an easy job.

She moved more into the shadows where people would be less likely to walk at this time of night. It was easier for her to see in the dark and sticking to the shadows offered her a small measure of privacy she wouldn't otherwise have.

Morrigan hadn't outright stated who Kieran's father was, but Zaire heard enough to have worked it out. The awkward conversations with Morrigan and Alistair. Alistair's comments about how they'd traveled with the Hero of Ferelden. Morrigan suddenly being willing to comment on Kieran's parentage in passing.

He won't get a chance to know his father. And that's on me.

She still felt off her stride in the aftermath of Adamant and Blackwall's subsequent departure and turbulent return. She had spent her entire day in constant meetings with her advisors, and she was honest enough with herself to-

"Still out and about trying to out walk your problems?" Dorian asked, sauntering out from a side passage. His dark blue robes swayed, silver trim catching bits of dying light.

"My legs are too short to out walk my problems." She stared straight ahead, not slowing her stride. "That's why I've been out riding a horse."

"I too avoid overly walking when other options are available." He matched his stride to hers. "I wouldn't mind going out for a ride next time you need to get out. It's a lonely life in the middle of nowhere."

Zaire snorted, glancing over at him. "I'll tell Cullen you're lonely."

"If you can find him not working or sulking, please do." He winked. "Maybe I like your charming company."

"Yes, I still have that bottle of wine in my quarters, if that's your roundabout way of asking." A smile formed on her lips despite her mood. It was why she had become so close to Dorian over the last number of months with the Inquisition; he was always there in his own strange way. He'd joke about the wine, but he'd spend more time listening to her than drinking. He always did.

"Excellent. It will go with the food I've asked to be delivered there so that you remember to eat." He made a face and reached out to brush a bit of dirt off her coat. "Perhaps it would also go well with bathing." He wrinkled his nose. "You smell like a stable."

"I think that's the least of my problems." She cast her eyes up to the sky at the descending darkness as they walked into the main courtyard, frowning at the clouds that had blown in while she rode. As her eyes searched the clouded sky, a fat raindrop landed on her forehead. She wiped it away. "And rain. Of course."

"Yes, well. It does happen in this dreary place. But if I am to walk slow so you can keep up with me, we're certainly opening that bottle of wine when we get to your quarters." He placed a hand on her shoulder as they walked. "If you stopped by the stable, does that mean that you've gotten around to-"

"No," she said, perhaps a little too sharply. She winced. "Sorry. No. I didn't. He wasn't there."

"Probably with Sera, then. I'm sure they're off being thoroughly unsavory together." He lifted his hand from her shoulder reached out to tug on her hood. "You may want to put this on." He pulled his cloak closer around himself as the rain began in earnest. Thunder cracked in the distance.

She reached up and pulled her hood over her head to keep the worst of the rain off as the sky opened up and poured water onto them. "We'll talk about it in my quarters." She huddled in her wool cloak.

"Fair enough." His gazed remained steady on her. "How were all of your meetings today?"

She sighed at the thought of another long day of meetings with her advisors, especially as the strain of losing Alistair hung over all of them. In particular, she felt concerned for Morrigan; she hid it well, but Zaire couldn't deny that she was off. She'd wanted to ask how she was doing, given that Morrigan had known Alistair so long and there seemed to be more to the situation. With Alistair's widow being the Hero of Ferelden, though, it hadn't been a point she wanted to broach. "Fine. A lot to do. Always too much to do. Everyone was shaken up after Adamant, and then there was yesterday…" The judgment of Thom Rainier. The hardest trial for her so far, and something told her that even more difficult ones were to come.

"Yes. I had to hear Cullen rage about that all last night." The mage rolled his eyes. "Not as badly as he did about the Samson situation, but enough."

"Sorry you had to deal with it." They reached the hall, where the day before she'd had to pass judgement on the man she loved. A judgement that was far kinder than what many people felt he'd deserved. A number of nobles were still finishing dinner at the table, and they fell hushed when she entered. Shivering, she flipped her soaking wet hood back then shook the water off of her hands.

"It's not the first time nor the last time. The Inquisition is stressful on us all, and Cullen has handled far worse. And I'm more worried about what you're dealing with than that I must endure." He tucked a wet strand of hair back into place. "But I'm worried I'll be plucking a gray hair at this rate."

"Hang on a second." She put a hand on his arm to stop him. They were near the fire, where Varric sat with a book half full of writing, a pen in his hand. He tapped his pen against his chin, and Zaire got the distinct impression he was already listening. "Varric. What do you think? Is the Inquisition giving Dorian gray hairs?"

Varric looked over at them, smiling, and set the pen down. "I can see a gray hair on Sparkler's head all the way down here."

Dorian made a wounded face. "He's lying. Right? Tell me he's lying."

"I don't know, I'm a little short to check." Zaire grinned, clapping the other dwarf on his shoulder. "Thanks Varric."

"Any time."

"You're both terrible people." Dorian shook his head. "Terrible. Next time I'll walk fast so you can't keep up."

Varric picked pack up his pen and gestured with it. "Never tell two experts at setting traps that. We have ways of making you slow down."

Zaire laughed. "We definitely aren't having this discussion again tonight." She paused. Earlier that day, Hawke had said his goodbyes and stated his intention to leave that afternoon. He'd sent word ahead about what had happened to Alistair, a letter that she knew had not been easy to write. Hawke wouldn't admit it, but she'd seen him in the days following Alistair's decision to stay in the Fade so that they could survive, and he'd looked like he hadn't slept. It's best if he gets home. "Varric, did Hawke make it out of here in time to beat the storm?"

"Hawke, on time?" Varric snorted. "No. In fact, I'm joining him for a drink later. Something about needing to stay for another day. Says he'd like to get back to Blondie and Warden Amell, but has a couple of people he needs to speak to here first. 'Deputy Warden business', he calls it."

"I may come join you for that drink later, then." A cold ale to warm the heart, her mother would have said. "It's been a long week."

"Any time, Inquisitor."

Zaire thought for a moment. "How far does Hawke have to travel to get home?"

"That is one question I don't think even Leliana can answer." He tapped his pen against his nose. "He's been notoriously secret about where he's been holing up. With good reason."

"I don't blame him." If she'd been through half of what Hawke had been through, she wouldn't have come this far, although she understood he'd gone with Alistair to ensure that they had someone to get back to the Ferelden Wardens, if needed. "I'm surprised no one has cornered him and tried to get it out of him."

Dorian laughed. "Oh, they may try. But I'll give Cullen this – for all that he's still holding grudges about Kirkwall, he has some respect for Hawke. He's… well." Dorian ran his hands along his robes to straighten them after being out in the weather. "He's aware of what Hawke did for Kirkwall, dreadful place as it seems to be. He wouldn't stand for it."

"Hey, that's my home you're talking about. Don't think I won't set traps." He set down pen on the table next to the book and reached out to touch Zaire's arm. "While you're here, have you-"

Zaire put the hand with the mark over his, feeling his fingers through the leather of her glove. "No. Since you're about to ask the same question that everyone is asking me. I'll take care of it." She squeezed his hand and became suddenly aware of the alien feel of the mark. Even when it didn't glow, it was always there. "I appreciate the concern. I do. I just need to think."

"Just don't take too long for it." He picked up the pen again. "Seen friends do that, and it just led to more heartbreak."

She nodded as she stepped back. "I know. I do."

Varric touched his pen to the paper to continue his writing, and Dorian and Zaire continued up towards her quarters. As they passed the throne, she looked away from it, momentarily uncomfortable with the responsibility that it represented. She rubbed at the marked hand with her other, the ever present reminder of the burdens she carried.


	2. Who Am I Now?

Blackwall didn't know where to go. His world felt off balance, surreal. Where the inhabitants of Skyhold looked at him with admiration or smiles before, they now avoided him, turning away. They didn't make eye contact. He could hear the whispers, even if he didn't know what they were saying. He could imagine well enough.

It would be bearable if he knew where he stood with Zaire. As it was… he wasn't sure. It had been only a day since the trial, but he'd held out some hope that she'd come talk to him as soon as it ended. Instead, she threw herself back into meetings with her advisers. Which he understood; she had duties that were much larger than whatever was between them. It didn't make it any easier.

He needed to talk to someone, but finding someone who still considered him a friend could prove hard. So, he went to the one person who was least likely to care. It meant getting through a crowd of tavern goers, but he didn't know where else to go. Her door stood open at the end of the passageway.

"Are you here, Sera?" Blackwall called, knocking on the doorframe.

"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" Sera's foot stepped through the open window to his right, the rest of her following a moment later. "Ooof. Got hit with a raindrop. I'm out. Or in. In. Right. In and out." The slender elf giggled as she closed the window soundly and latched it before sitting down on a pile of brightly colored pillows. "Not sorry for that."

He chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the door frame. "Nor should you be."

"I'm not that kind of in and out girl. I mean, not in the same way some girls are." She patted the pile of pillows next to her. "Are you gonna come in and sit down, Beardy?"

"Depends. Fuzzyhead." He sat down on a startlingly blue pillow and laid his hands on his knees, careful to not let his arms stray too far outward in the crowded room. He didn't want to run the risk of knocking anything over, a constant possibility when in Sera's eccentric sanctuary. She had far more possessions than he saw himself ever having, and crammed into such a small space that sometimes he half expected the stuff to start pushing itself out of one of the windows. He never asked where she got any of it, but it seemed like the collection kept growing.

Sera beamed at him. "Sorry you're not getting any in and out, there." She hopped up and crossed her legs under her, her blonde hair bouncing with the movement. "So whatcha want?"

Blackwall paused, looking around at the piles of random things she'd accumulated. A metal vase sat precariously on a beat up looking book, and he reached out and moved it so it sat more steadily on top of it. "Maybe I just came over here to make ass jokes."

Sera snorted. "As if we'd sit around making ass jokes."

"Are you saying we wouldn't?" He crossed his arms, wishing that it were as simple as ass jokes. "Didn't you tell me that you drew the empress's ass?"

"Yeah!" Sera started laughing. "A story about trust. Yeah." She giggled then stopped, her face becoming serious. "So I wanted to ask you something."

Blackwall leaned back against the pillows, trying to get comfortable in the small space. "Ask me what you'd like. So long as it's not in and out." _And here it comes._

Sera made a face. "Gross." She picked up a pillow and idly punched at it. "I don't get it. If you want to change, just change. Why this 'fake Warden' rubbish?"

He thought about the question for a moment. There were so many more reasons for why he did what he did than he could explain to her. No answer seemed like a good enough one. "For one, people wanted me dead." An understatement, perhaps; when the word got out, it went past people wanting him simply dead. Good coin would be paid to whoever could bring him to justice, lending a great deal of motivation for any sensible person to turn him in. "Being someone else kept me breathing." He paused, rubbing at his beard that he'd used to hide his identity for so many years. "And then, knowing that people thought I was good made it easier." Every accomplishment he'd had as Blackwall felt like another cut, another place to bleed until Thom Rainier had bled away and only whoever he tried to be would remain. But every look of admiration from another person made him feel like that only lies replaced the blood lost to the cuts.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, the truth being known came with some relief. If he were going to bleed out from a thousand cuts, at least he would bleed his own damned blood.

Sera stabbed a finger at him. "You needed them to think you could, so _you_ could think you could!" She picked up the pillow and hit him with it. "You're smart, but you're sort of stupid."

"A smarter man wouldn't have gotten into this situation." _A smarter man would have turned tail when payment for killing came into the picture._ A smarter man wouldn't have fallen in love with the very person that could hold his fate in her hands.

Shoving the pillow into his lap, she sat back. "She won't talk to you, yeah?"

Sighing, Blackwall wrapped his fingers around the edges of the pillow. The golden fringe spilled out between his fingers. He wished it were Zaire's coppery hair between his fingers instead. "No."

"Driving you crazy, that."

"It is. She said…" He wasn't sure if he should tell her. Then again, it was Sera. She'd undoubtedly make fun of the idea, but that wasn't the worst that could happen. "She said she didn't love me. Back in the prison."

"Then she's being stupid, too." Sera flailed, reaching out for a flask sitting on the floor nearby. "She loves you. I'm pretty sure she'd do the in and out with you tonight if you wanted."

He rolled his eyes. "Sera, that's not even what I want."

"Then what do you want?" She peered into the flask and frowned, turning it upside down to reveal its lack of contents. "Isn't that what men want?"

"I just want… her." He shrugged. "I just want to sit around holding her, talking to her, knowing she's there." _Feeling her warm and alive in my arms._ Being able to take on anything because he'd come home to her. "Knowing she believed."

"She still believes. She believes in all of us. That's why it's good here, because we can just be us. We don't have to pretend to be some noble bullshit we're not. She doesn't ask that of us. She used to smuggle lyrium and that's shit, Beardy."

"She also never tried to pretend she was something she wasn't," he pointed out.

"Doesn't matter. People try to make her what they think she should be. Herald of Andraste. Or whatever." She waved her hand in the air. "The point is that we all change and at least you tried to be better. That's more than lots of people ever do."

"Lots of people don't…" He struggled to find the words. "Kill innocents, Sera. Children." Blackwall slumped and covered his face with his hands. He wished that covering his eyes could block out their faces, or covering his ears would silence their voices echoing in his head. _It's what I deserve. To be reminded._

"Yeah and lots of people don't get put in situations where they have the option. I mean, yeah, you should have said no. But that was the old you. You aren't that Rainier guy, at least not like he was."

"Then who am I?" He lifted his head. "I'm not Warden Blackwall, either. When I look in the mirror, I don't know who I see."

Reaching out, she tugged on his beard. He wouldn't have tolerated it from just anyone, but something about the way Sera did it made it endearing rather than annoying. "You're whoever you want to be, now. She gave you that freedom. You get to pick. You can spend the rest of your life giving people second chances like the one you've had. You can do anything you want now. It's all up to you."

How did she manage to make it sound so simple? "So you're saying I can be anything."

She wrinkled her nose up. "Oh no not that. You can't be a Templar, because lyrium. You can't be an elf because you're not… elfy." She studied him for a moment. "You also can't be my girlfriend, you're right out on that one, too much hair and dangly bits."

Blackwall chuckled, and it felt good to laugh. He pointed at his beard. "Hey, I have had this hair and dangling bits complimented, thank you very much."

"Well they can be complimented somewhere else." She punched his leg lightly. "Maybe you should go out of your way to talk to her then? I'll bet she likes it."

He sighed, glancing through the window as if he'd gain some insight. The darkness outside made it impossible to see past the glass, and he felt like he looked into his own future, not knowing what lay beyond. "I don't know if she likes any of me all that much right now."

Rolling her eyes, Sera plucked an arrow out of the quiver and waved it at him. "Do you need me to stab you? She loves you. She was always happy with you."

"She was happy with who I let her believe I was." A hero. Someone who had saved lives, not taken the lives of innocents. A Grey Warden. "She let me close to her because of who she thought I was."

"You really are daft." She bounced the arrow on her head. "On the inside, maybe that other guy is still there. Okay. But when you were with her, I saw you. Well, not saw-saw, that would be gross-"

"Sera," he warned.

"Right, right. I hear lots though. I see you go to your tent together when we're away from here. You're just two people. You treat her well, hold open the tent for her. Always make sure she's okay. When you walk in the room, her face glows, all… glowy. Not like her hand glowy. But you knooooow." She balanced the arrow on her head as she kept talking. "When you're with her, maybe you weren't Rainier, maybe you weren't Blackwall, but you were hers and she was yours and you were both okay with that."

Outside, the rain was falling harder, beating against the window. He could be curled up with her by the fire in her quarters, threatening to count her freckles or tracing the shape of the tattoo on her face with his fingers. The thought that he may never have that again made him feel sick to his stomach. "I didn't tell her what I'd done."

"Oh! You think she had sex with you thinking you were a virgin who had never killed another person in their life?" She snorted and the arrow wiggled on her head then steadied. "Now that's rich. The bad kind of rich, I can't even pick that kind of rich's pocket. See, there's no difference now except she knows what you did before, but it doesn't change what you do now."

And there was the question. "What _do_ I do now, Sera?"

"You should ask her that question. She'll probably have all kinds of nice compliments about your arse."

He reached out and plucked the arrow off the top of her head. "It's not my arse I'm worried about."

"Yeah except I'm going to kick it if you don't talk to her. Trust me. She blushes like… like this pillow." Sera picked up a pillow that was a shade of red that Blackwall was fairly sure Zaire was not capable of turning under any circumstances, but he went with it. "Every time she talks about you. It's awful, and I've seen you two making out by the stable, Dennet can't unsee _anything-_ "

Blackwall fidgeted with the arrow in his hand. "Then maybe he shouldn't have been lurking around. Nor should have you." He smiled, pointing at her with the arrow. "If I ever have a chance to ensure you see my arse, I'm taking it."

"Oh no you won't, I learned where not to go at night." Her hand snapped out and grabbed the arrow out of his hand. "Stop being stupid and just ask her what she's pissed about. You're good for her, and life is short and shit. Like that Alistair guy? He wasn't probably living much longer because he's a Warden anyway, but you don't have Warden problems but still we never know when any of us will die and-"

"Sera, I get it." He shook his head. _Alistair._ Of course Zaire was still upset, that had really been hard for her. He stared out the window, unable to see much outside through the rain and descending darkness. "I'm being an idiot, aren't I? She has a lot bigger problems right now than me."

"Well then stop being dumb and give her one less problem. Maybe tomorrow you can talk to her." She pushed at his shoulder. "I want to steal a pie. You want to come with me?"

As delicious as that sounded, it also seemed like trouble. "I'd love to, but the way this place has been since yesterday, I'm more likely to get stabbed than handed a pastry."

"I'll only stab you if you're dumb." She made a face at him. "So, tomorrow, yeah?"

He nodded. _Sera believes. Is it such a stretch that Zaire could still believe, too?_ Maybe it wasn't so distant of a possibility. For the first time in weeks, he felt hope swell up and he pushed it down, afraid to let himself feel it yet. "I will. And… thanks."

"You're welcome. Beardy." Cackling, she pushed him through the doorway and took off… wherever Sera goes to find trouble.

He headed down the stairs through the tavern, nodding to Iron Bull as he passed. Krem stood near the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Hey. How are you holding up?"

Blackwall slowed to a stop and tried to blend into the shadows. "I'm… fine."

"You don't sound fine. Chief's worried about you. Won't say it, but he worries." Krem uncrossed his arms to pick up his drink and take a swallow. He pushed the half empty mug to Blackwall. "Here. You need a drink."

"I need more than a drink at this rate," Blackwall said, taking it from him and drinking. The ale was well-rounded, just the right amount of bite to make him pay attention to it.

"We're rounding up a group to do some sparring tomorrow." Krem jerked a thumb towards the general direction of the practice yard. "Interested?"

Blackwall took another swig of the ale and shook his head. "No one wants to spar with me."

"No one wants to spar with half of us, either." Krem shrugged. "The Chargers are a family, and we're full of people that have done things. You're always welcome with us."

A hand clapped down hard on Blackwall's shoulder, hard enough that he almost dropped his drink. He looked over as the Iron Bull came to stand next to him. The qunari grinned. "Now, isn't this better? Getting the burden of that lie off your chest?"

Blackwall could feel the eyes of the patrons around them glaring his direction. He raised his mug in a mock toast. "And exchanging it for the burden of everyone hating me? Yes. So much better."

"Hey, I don't hate you. You and me? We're good." Bull shrugged. "Now that you know who you are, you can stop doubting yourself and start hitting crap again."

"Why don't we hit a few drinks first, huh?" Looking down into the mug in his hand, Blackwall finished off the drink with a couple more swallows.

Iron Bull lifted a pitcher from the table nearby and filled the tankard in Blackwall's hand. "Now you're talking."

"Then it's settled, we're hitting things tomorrow," Krem said, grinning.

Iron Bull nodded. "People will come around. Or they won't. But that's their loss. We stand with you."

 _Well, that's something_. "I… appreciate that."

"We'll hit things tomorrow. Tonight is for…" Iron Bull whistled as a pretty woman walked by. "That. Right there." He turned and followed, and Blackwall shook his head.

At least he knew he had some friends still here.


	3. A Terrible Burden To Bear

At the top of the stairs, Zaire found a large covered platter on the table outside of her door. She looked over at Dorian. "When did you become so good at ensuring we're fed?"

"When I learned that none of you will eat without assistance. I've known children with better self preservation than you lot." He rolled his eyes.

"So…" She smirked at him, lifting the lid on the tray just far enough to see that it looked packed with an unusual amount of food. Far more than she thought she could manage, and she felt a stab of guilt. There were others that needed to eat more than she did in Skyhold, she was certain. "You asked Josie to take care of it."

"Not entirely, although I should spoon feed you your food at this rate. See if I do you any more favors." He crossed his arms. "I merely encouraged her to take advantage of Leliana's observations and concerns. With a little help from me. Now I just tell them who looks hungry."

"Do you manage to get extra dessert out of the deal?"

"No, alas. I have to make do with wine as thanks for my thoughtfulness." He reached out and plucked the key out of her pocket, unlocking the heavy wooden door and pushing it open. He held it open for her, then followed her in, closing it firmly behind them.

"Can you lock that?" Zaire called back over her shoulders, carrying the tray up the last set of stairs to her living area.

Dorian reached back and pushed the bolt over. "When did you become so paranoid?"

"I've pissed a lot of people off, Dorian. Several of them this week alone." Zaire set the tray down on a table and flopped down on the bed, tugging off her gloves and tossing them onto a pillow. She held her hands up in front of her face, stretching out her fingers and looking at her palms. Times like this, when the mark didn't show, she could almost feel normal. A normal, heartbroken woman that went from smuggling lyrium to trying to save Thedas in a matter of mere months. She could read the years by the lines on her hands, by the callouses and the scars and the way her flesh draped over her knuckles when she looked at the back of her hands. She felt older than she had a right to.

"Well, laying on the bed in dirty clothes certainly won't help." He dropped down onto the couch and sprawled dramatically. "But that's not my problem as I can't smell you from here."

Zaire didn't get up, instead dropping her hands to her sides and closing her eyes. "I think it's the least of my problems."

"Yes. That much I can see." She heard him stand and start moving. Opening her eyes, she watched him get the bottle of wine from the rack near her desk and open it. He pulled out two glasses from a cabinet and filled them.

She sat up to take a glass from him, and he kept hold of the other one. "Thanks." She paused, sipping at the red wine. She didn't know much about wine, but generally drank whatever she was handed. "I'm still working out what happened with Alistair."

"Having to leave him behind?"

Zaire winced at Dorian's blunt delivery. "That's… part of it." She held the wine in both of her hands. "Did I tell you the Hero of Ferelden sent me a message asking me to keep him safe?"

"No." He sat on the bed, sitting cross legged. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. That's a terrible burden to bear."

"I sent a letter, along with Hawke's, but there's nothing I can do to fix this." Her shoulders slumped as if she felt the physical weight of it all, pressing down on her. If it pressed hard enough, perhaps she could sink so far into this mattress that she'd never come up again. She wasn't sure what to make of that thought. "I feel like I failed."

"Zaire." Dorian shook his head and put a hand on her knee. "That was a decision that he made, too."

Nodding, she rubbed at her forehead. As much as having to tell Audra Amell what had happened, she had even larger concerns. She laid her free hand over his, grateful for his friendship. "People are not supposed to be physically in the Fade, right?"

"It's certainly not a wise decision, that much is certain." He looked thoughtful as he shifted his eyes from her to his glass, the crimson depths swirling with the movement of his hand. "Ancient Magisters entering the Fade, the Taint, archdemons, ect."

Nodding, Zaire sipped at her wine. Alistair's last brave moments stuck in her head, but something else did, too. "There's two things I can't shake. If it was bad for anyone to enter the Fade physically, even for a short time, isn't it worse to leave someone there? Even if they… don't survive. It seems that something has been left there that shouldn't be."

"I don't believe it's the Fade that's the problem per se, I believe it was considered to be entering the Golden City. Or Black City, depending on your source." Dorian now seemed to be moving the wine in a pattern within the glass, a habit she noted he had while thinking. "But. You pose a good question. Is it the fact that they went into the city… or that something physical was in the city at all?"

"Meaning that even a body could be a risk?" She took her hand off of his and clasped her own glass in two hands.

"Yes." Dorian tipped his cup back and finished the whole glass before speaking again. "I'm going to need more wine for this."

Zaire set hers down on a table by the bed and hopped off the bed, going over to get the bottle. She didn't want to interrupt his train of thought on this. She filled his glass and set down the bottle, then lifted her own glass, sipping as she begun to pace.

Dorian started to drink the wine then stopped with the glass halfway lifted. "That's perhaps an issue. We don't know what actually happened there. All we know is that it started the first Blight, which is the only tangible proof that anything happened at all."

"Do you think it's possible to… survive that? The demon?"

He watched her pace as he sipped at the glass. "I don't know. The odds were not in anyone's favor. But it's fair to say that it's… haunting some of us."

She frowned. "Have you dreamed lately?"

"Of course. Mages all have a stronger than usual connection to the Fade."

Having no connection to the Fade, Zaire wasn't sure how to ask the question she was trying to ask. She shuffled back across the carpet to sit next to Dorian. "I don't dream so I don't really understand… but… what do you dream about?"

"The usual things. Demons. My father. Sometimes good things. Wine. Cullen." He shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

She didn't know why she asked, and she didn't know the answer she was expecting. "I don't know. Do you think it's possible for a mage to manage to find out if Alistair is alive in the Fade?"

"As much as I hate to put this out there: Solas may be a better person to ask than I." Dorian wrinkled his nose in distaste. "But, if you want my opinion, you'd need a mage with a stronger connection to him than I. Perhaps related to him, but…" He shrugged. "It doesn't seem like that's an option."

Zaire froze in place, calculating the conversation she'd overheard between Morrigan and Kieran. She couldn't tell Dorian that; it wouldn't be fair to then. And what if she were wrong? If anyone could have chance of it, he seemed likely.

"Although," he continued, "you may be interested to know that there's been some tense times in the library. The elven mage. Fiona. Since you returned from Adamant, she's been… snappish. Claims to not be sleeping well, too many nightmares."

"After what she's been through, nightmares seem to be the expected outcome." Zaire paused. "Since Adamant. Have you heard any other mage mention this?"

"Not that I've heard, although it's not as if they acknowledge me if they can help it."

Zaire didn't like the sound of that. "That's their loss. I, for one, value your company." She leaned against a pillow, forcing herself to relax and think. Fiona would be on her list of people to talk to tomorrow, after she'd had some time to think on how to phrase the question.

"Of course you do, because you've got taste in friends." He smiled. "Speaking of losses, and not to change the subject, but you appear to have still not addressed your other situation."

Finishing off her glass of wine, she started towards the food, pulling up a chair. "You need wine for these conversations, and I need food." She lifted the top off the platter to find a still warm bowl of stew containing meat, carrots, and potatoes. On various smaller plates around it, she saw bread, cheese, fruit, and a dessert pastry. The stew smelled delicious and she dove into it. While she'd likely eaten her fill of enough stew to last a lifetime, she did admit that it help to warm her in the colder temperatures at Skyhold.

While she ate, Dorian refilled her glass and took a seat across from her and waited for her to speak. Halfway through her fifth mouthful, she said around a chunk of potato, "So. Blackwall."

"Speaking of barbarians." He made a tsk sound. "Swallow your food properly."

She did so, washing it down with a gulp of the wine. "Blackwall. Or… Thom."

"I don't care what you decide to call him." He crossed one leg over the other and smoothed his hands over his robes. "What I care about is that you are clearly not happy."

She shook her head. "I've got bigger problems than my happiness, Dorian. I do."

"No, you don't. Yesterday, I watched you make the one and only decision you've ever made as Inquisitor that anyone could ever accuse of being selfish."

That stung. "I'm not-"

"I'm not saying that you are. I'm saying that others could look at it that way." He set down his wine and reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "Zaire. I know you better."

Letting him wrap his hand around hers, she slumped. "All we do is fight here. We fight for others to have a chance at life. At happiness. To survive this. Dorian…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I just had to remember what it's like to have a shot at that myself. It's so hard to fight when I can't remember what it's all for sometimes."

He squeezed her hand. "So you let him go because you wanted to be happy?"

Not sure how to answer that, she shrugged. "I know it sounds ridiculous, because I'm not happy, but…"

"You need to have that conversation with him. In fact, I suggest you go as soon as you're done eating."

Sighing, she nodded. "Fine. I will. But if we're going to sit here talking about this, I think it's only fair that I get a chance to ask you about Cullen."

"Is it fair?" He leaned back in his chair, lips pushed together under his mustache. "I suppose it is. Well. Then I assume it's obvious that it's not going where I'd like. Cullen takes beating himself up over past misdeeds to a whole new level. Perhaps worse than Blackwall, I'd imagine."

"That's… Impressive. And maybe accurate." Zaire winced.

"I know it is. It's just that… I know he's done things. He won't tell me the details, but he was a Templar. I'm not stupid. I might be from Tevinter but I know full well the abuses Templars are guilty of upon mages here. I hear the rumors. The whispers."

"Does it bother you?" She picked up her spoon and continued eating her stew before it got too cold to taste good.

"It's less that it doesn't bother me, and more than…" Dorian stared down into his wine glass, tension showing along his jaw. "He clearly wants to leave that person he was behind. He wants to see people for who they are. But he isn't quite there yet. Even worse, I'm concerned he doesn't think he's worthy of anyone caring about him."

"Least of all a mage," she added between bites of food.

He pointed to her. "Yes. That right there."

She finished chewing a bite of stew and swallowed. "What do you do with two people that have trouble seeing their own worth?"

"Lock us in a room together and take away our clothes would be my suggestion." Dorian chuckled.

"I'm impressed you managed this much, to be honest."

"Are you really? Did you doubt my charm?" Dorian made a face and Zaire laughed.

"No. Not in your charm. Cullen's ability to take a hint… yes. I did doubt that." In fact, it had taken more than just hints. They'd started by playing chess, since it appeared that most of the people at Skyhold were not terribly good at it. The games had started with a lot of strategy and concentration, and evolved into some verbal sparring. Zaire had watched them on a few occasions as they'd established a rapport, and Cullen had admitted to her later during one of their rare discussions that weren't about work that he enjoyed Dorian's company. Their friendship had, at first, helped Cullen get perspective on how he could more tactically leverage the Inquisition's mages. It moved into mutual flirting, onto the dance at Halamshiral, and everything that's come since. She'd watched Cullen's usually serious demeanor crack into some of the most genuine smiles she'd seen on his face. In turn, she'd watched Dorian become more confident in himself, a real confidence that seemed borne partially out of having the chance to make a difference, and partially out of the knowledge that not everyone would judge him as his father had.

"Oh, you're referring to how it took weeks of flirting to get him to even flirt back." Dorian leaned back and smiled smugly. "The novelty of making him blush has not worn off."

"I'm not sure it ever will." Zaire smiled, balancing her spoon in her hand. "I never got the chance to ask which one of you asked the other to dance at the Winter Palace."

"It was me, and he turned me down." Dorian shook his head. "I figured he wasn't interested."

Zaire remembered how irritated Dorian had been, pacing the garden at Halamshiral and gesturing with his hand that didn't hold a wineglass. Shortly before ripping into an Orlesian noble that had gotten too far into his personal space. "Well, we saw what that got him. Pinched inappropriately by a number of nobles. And then all hell broke loose."

"As it tends to do. When the dust settled, you had danced with Blackwall, and I'd taken up a corner with a glass of wine." Dorian held up his wine to make the point. "I considered asking you to dance just to remember I could dance. Then Cullen stopped in front of me and reached out a hand. He was as red as the outfits we were wearing." He smiled. "He stammered a lot. I had to ask him if he was asking me to dance."

"What did he say?"

"Oh, it was positively incomprehensible but it seemed to be yes. I considered making him wait a moment, bent over in a bow with his hand out, but I got concerned he'd lose his nerve." Dorian's eyes went from his wine up to Zaire's face. "It's hard for him to have his guard down that much, but with the threat passed… well. I'm sure we gave the nobles something to gossip about."

"They had a whole assassination attempt to gossip about," Zaire noted. "Why would they-"

Dorian laughed. "Because that's what they do. Orlesians love a good scandal."

"You moved well together out there." Zaire remembered their first halting dance steps before Cullen had taken a deep breath and just let go. At first Cullen had been stiff, formal, but then they seemed to find a stride.

"Thank you for that. I was mad at him for not only making it so hard, but after the dance, he blushed, stammered, and left. I believe he told me I had a beautiful nose first. The next day, he invited me to dinner in his office. He tried to explain. He failed."

"I remember." She laughed. "Then he kissed you."

"Yes, that. And I'm still not sure how we got there. I'd like to blame too much wine, but Cullen barely drank." He smiled. "That escalated quickly."

"It's good for him. I've noticed he's become… well." Zaire paused, trying to find the right words. "It does him good to spend time with a mage. It's showing in how he's started approaching situations."

"I think it does him good to spend time with someone who cares, but I admit, I've noticed. He's been telling me about some of the mage recruits, and his tone has been changing. You can consider that a bonus to him exhibiting less signs of stress in general." Dorian's grin left no doubt in Zaire's mind as to what he referred to.

Zaire started to reply when the pounding at the door came, followed by Sera's voice. "Let me in, yeah? I've been out on the roof and it's warmer in here."

"The roof? You're all savages," Dorian commented as Zaire stood up and bounded down the stairs to slide the bolt aside and pull open the door. Sera stood in the doorway, perfectly dry.

"I thought you said you were soaked?" Zaire asked, puzzled.

"Oh, I just said that so you'd let me in." Sera bounded past her and up the stairs, nearly running into Dorian as he downed the second glass of wine. "Hope you left some for me."

"Just don't eat all of her dinner again. Please." Dorian waited for Zaire to come back up the stairs, then patted her shoulder. "I'd hug you but you smell like horse. I'm off to do my next good deed."

"Doing a good deed, huh?" Sera asked. "Is Cullen's nickname 'my next good deed'? So you can go… do it?"

Groaning, Dorian hastily headed for the stairs. "Zaire – let's talk with Solas tomorrow."

"You've got it. And thanks."

He slipped through the door and closed it as Sera stole a handful of grapes from the plate and shoved them in her mouth. "I think Blackwall is back in the barn. You should talk to him."

"Not you, too." Zaire sat down and put her arms on the table, resting her head on them. Of course, of all of them, Sera would be the most likely of the bunch. "What do you think of the situation, Sera?"

"Me?" She shrugged, picking up the bottle of wine and taking a drink straight out of the bottle. "He tried to be good. That's better than most."

Zaire picked back up her bowl of stew and kept eating. A knot was forming in her stomach that threatened to make eating far more difficult than it already had been the past two days, but if she didn't eat she wouldn't be of use to anyone. "I'll go after I eat. Fair?"

"Yeah. But I'm waiting for you to finish. What if you never leave because you're waiting to eat this piece of cheese?" Sera asked, pointing.

"Hey!" Zaire pulled the plate closer to her. "Get your own cheese."

"Well then eat it faster!"


	4. An Old Friend

In his office, Cullen stared down at yet another pile of reports. Between the Hissing Wastes, the aftermath of Adamant, Cadash's recent withdrawal into herself in the aftermath of Blackwall's deception, and attempting to ensure all forces were trained appropriately, he had little time to so much as think.

Or, if he were to ask Dorian, little time to think, bathe, eat, sleep, drill properly, or "enjoy Dorian's delightful company."

He wanted it to be a relationship, but was it yet? They enjoyed spending time together. Sometimes it was a bit more than that. He wanted it to be something even more. If he had to put a name to it, he'd say he was falling in love with Dorian, but couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't deserve to have the affection of a mage. Not after...

The door to his office creaked open and he scowled, not looking up. "Now is not the time," he growled. It's always something, isn't it?

"I'm sure you've got the time to talk to an old friend," a woman's voice drawled.

He glanced up and frowned at a woman cloaked in brown, hood pulled over her head. Water dripped off of her and started to pool inside the door as she shook her cloak out. He wondered who could have let her in here and considered calling for the guards. "I don't have any old friends. Get to the point."

She shut the door behind her and crossed her arms over her chest, her hood still in place. "Cullen."

The papers fluttered from his hands onto the floor, recognition dawning on him. It couldn't be.

She reached her hands up to lift her hood and Cullen stared. Of course it would be her. Alistair, left in the Fade. She'd come to... What had she come to do? Find out what really happened to her husband?

The years had changed her, her brown hair reaching partway down her back in a braid and a wisdom in her green eyes that he hadn't seen before. Even so, he couldn't ever not recognize Audra Amell, the Hero of Ferelden.

"Audra," he blurted, stepping backwards into his chair and knocking it into the wall with a clatter.

"Cullen," she repeated, a slight smile on her lips that didn't touch her eyes. "You... you look good."

He fought to control his reaction. For years she had haunted him, part of the demonic prison he'd suffered at Kinloch Hold. Memories he tried to forget but that haunted him every day, every time he remembered that Dorian was a mage and that Cullen had no right to touch a mage, not after the things he'd said and done. "You, too." He fought for a deep breath as he walked around his desk, uncertain. He'd loved her, once. Or thought that he had. The years hadn't helped him understand, leaving that time of his life a tangled ball of regret and pain that he put off sorting out.

She stepped towards him, pulling herself up to her full height even though it didn't bring her much farther than his chin. He started to step back but her hand snapped out to grab his wrist, and she pulled him into a rough, awkward hug. His armor formed an uncomfortable barrier between them, but her head tucked under his chin.

Cullen remembered Alistair's words. She forgives you. You need to forgive yourself. He raised his arms, wrapping them around her. If nothing else, he could try to provide comfort, despite everything that had happened in the middle. She'd called him an old friend; he didn't know if he'd earned that, but a gratefulness swelled in his chest at the gesture of acceptance. "Audra, are… you okay?" He almost cursed. "I mean, I know that you can't be-"

"I know. It's…" She shuddered. "I'm fine. Or not fine. I'm a bit of a mess on the inside." She stepped back out of his arms. "Alistair did pass on what I said, didn't he?"

"Yes, but... Maker, Warden Commander, how can you be so calm?"

She snorted. "You just said it. I'm Ferelden's Warden Commander. It's calm or die these days." Unclasping her cloak, she flicked it off her shoulders and hung it on a peg by the door. Under the cloak she wore simple brown clothing, not even carrying a staff, no doubt to blend in as much as she could.

Bending down to pick up the papers, he straightened them into a pile and put them back on his desk. "What are you doing here?"

"It's… complicated." Drawing a deep breath, she shrugged. "I received word about Alistair from your Inquisitor." Her eyes were sad. "I'd asked her to keep him safe."

Cullen felt a stab of indignation for the implication. "She did the best she could under the circumstances. It was an impossible situation."

"I'm not angry, Cullen. I'm sorrowed beyond all belief, but there's more to the situation." She paused, then paced near the fire and rubbed her hands together to warm them. "It's more complicated than I can explain right now." She put her hands against her face and Cullen realized she was wiping away tears.

He felt awkward, unable to help. "I'm sorry. He was… a good man."

"He still is a good man." Audra turned to look back at him. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you're doing well, do you? I heard you're not a Templar anymore." She cocked her head at him. "But you still wear armor everywhere."

A warmth flushed his face. "Not… everywhere."

"You need to sleep sometime." Her eyes still shone with unshed tears but she'd composed herself. Cullen didn't think he'd ever seen her cry, and he was somewhat surprised she'd do so in front of him.

"I don't." He sat back down in his chair and gestured at her to sit across from him. "When did you get here?"

"Ten minutes ago, more or less."

"And you came here first? Why?"

"I saw Leliana before you. That's how I even got past your guards, she got me this far." She took the offered seat and sat on the edge, not quite comfortable. "Of everyone here, you were the one I didn't want to find out that I was here through rumor. I wanted you to know from me."

It seemed dangerous for her to come to Skyhold, now that he thought about it. "Are you okay here? I know there is a false Calling, from Corypheus."

"It's… manageable." Wincing, she rubbed at her temple. "It's faint, and I came ready to deal with it. Not thinking too hard about it helps." She managed a smile. "Leliana tells me that you've found someone?"

He felt a blush creep into his face again. "I don't think it's Leliana's business. Or yours."

A sudden full out grin crossed her face, so unbelievably Audra that he wasn't sure he was reading her correctly. "That... is somewhat true. I'll bet she's pretty. You always had good taste."

He didn't want to explain the details that Leliana clearly left out. "Maker, Audra...!"

"Relax. I'm teasing. And thank you for leaving my title alone this time." She leaned back in the chair, folding her hands in her lap. "I'm glad you've got something good in your life. And that you've walked away from…" She trailed off but he could read her meaning well enough.

She doesn't trust Templars. He started straightening the piles of papers again, struggling to find a change of topic. It started to occur to him that she was one of the few people that knew how horrible he'd been then, the things he'd said to mages. That he'd gone on to do. He suddenly thought of Dorian and wanted to undo the things he'd said. Maker, I hope that Audra and Dorian never get a chance to compare notes. Or Hawke, for that matter. Then again, perhaps Audra of all people understood what he'd been through, and if she could forgive him… Maybe there was hope for him. "By all rights you should hate me for what I said."

"Maybe I did for a time. But that's what life does to you sometimes. You see terrible things, and you see beautiful things, and somewhere you find the line. You learn to understand what to let go. And Hawke said that you learned to see reason in your time in Kirkwall." She pushed a piece of wet hair out of her face. "I've had no room in my heart to keep hating you, Cullen. We were kids, kids that went through traumatic and shit things that we had no choice in. We walked away and did something about the messes we made."

Garrett Hawke, also of the Amell line and Audra's second cousin, a fact that had explained many things when Hawke had told Cullen. "You saved Ferelden and killed an Archdemon. I…" He shrugged. "Well. I've changed, anyway."

"You're doing a hell of a lot more than that here, if Leliana is to be believed."

The knock at the door startled both Audra and Cullen and they got to their feet. The visitor did not wait for an answer, and Cullen breathed a sigh of relief at the prospect of not continuing down that topic. That is, relieved until Dorian's voice called out through the opening. "Dinner and charming company! Also very wet company." Dorian pushed the door fully open, pausing when he saw Audra. He smiled at her. "I see some charming wet company has beat me here." He set the tray down on Cullen's desk and turned to Audra, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. "Dorian Pavus, at your service."

Cullen noted that Dorian no longer stated "of House Pavus" any longer, as if he'd left the house behind but still took pride in the name. He found himself unable to take his eyes off of Dorian, any time he entered a room. While it wasn't the distraction from the conversation that he would have chosen, he never regretted a chance to look at Dorian.

Audra giggled - Maker help him, the Hero of Ferelden giggled at Dorian - and took his hand in both of hers. "A pleasure, ser."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Cullen tried to hide his blush by ducking his head. Damn his fool face. "Dorian, this is Audra Amell, the, uh..."

Audra winced and reached out to snag a piece of cheese, gesturing at him with it. "Don't you dare, Cullen Stanton Rutherford." She shoved the piece of cheese in her mouth, looking ridiculous and so much like the girl he'd known at Kinloch Hold that he had would have laughed if he wasn't already mortified.

"Audra, everyone knows who the Hero of Ferelden is, there's no use in not mentioning it."

"Oh, never mind that part." Dorian waved his hand dismissively. "I'm much more interested in hearing a story about the undoubtedly blushing young Templar from back when-"

That was the last thing Cullen needed. "No," he said, perhaps more sharp than he intended.

Dorian arched an eyebrow. "Cullen, you take all my fun away. Now eat."

"I'll make it up to you later." The words spilled out before Cullen could stop them, and he groaned, finally sitting down in his chair and covering his face. When he uncovered his face, his eyes slid past Dorian to Audra, who had a growing smirk. He titled his head at her in silent question. She pointed to Dorian, then at Cullen.

The look on his face must have confirmed her suspicions as she covered her mouth with a hand, her eyes bright with amusement.

"Oh now what did you do, Audra?" Dorian asked, looking at Cullen. "He's more red than usual."

A laugh bubbled up out of Audra. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Make him blush? Yes well it's one of his many..." Dorian pushed his lips together. "Talents."

"You people are going to be the death of me," Cullen grumbled, pulling the tray towards him. He trusted Audra to not say anything terrible, but he hadn't planned on her finding out about Dorian. At the same time, a sense of relief came over him. Audra's face showed nothing but support and joy for him, and somewhere in his mind he felt lighter for that. He just wished that Alistair were here to share in all of it.

"Mmm." Dorian turned back to Audra, this time taking her hands in his. Cullen noted that her fingers were stained with ink, as if she'd been writing a great deal recently. "As to why you're here... I'm sorry. For what's happened."

Audra pushed her lips together for a moment before speaking. She stared down at Dorian's hands, then up to his face. "Why did it have to be him?"

"Oh, he and Hawke fought about it."

"Of course they did. Both damned fool stubborn assholes." Audra shook her hands free and started pacing. "Were you there?"

"I was. He gave his life against a demon for the rest of us to survive."

Cullen looked from Dorian to Audra. "He was a hero." From the first time Cullen had met Alistair, that much had been obvious, even in Cullen's state at the time. "He's always been a hero."

"Is. He is a hero." She turned back to Dorian, studying him. "You're a mage. Tevinter, by the accent?"

"Yes. You have a discerning ear. But wait a moment." He shook his head. "You said is. By any chance have you… had some dreams lately?"

Audra's mouth set into a hard line. "How would you know-"

"About Alistair. That he's alive. But you don't think they're just dreams. As to how… well." Dorian shook his head. "I think it's time you meet our Inquisitor."

Cullen frowned, wondering what Dorian was getting at. "What are you both going on about?"

Dorian ran a finger along his moustache, a gesture that Cullen found distracting because it always led to him studying the shape of Dorian's nose. Every time. "It's ill advised to leave a person physically in the Fade. Especially if they're alive. I was there, I don't know how he could have survived, but-"

"He's tough, and a Grey Warden. We survived the Archdemon together." She reached up and unconsciously tugged at her necklace. "I will need to speak to your Inquisitor, but I have something I need to attend to first. I need to talk to Garrett. And Morrigan."

"Hawke is probably drinking with Varric. I can take you to him," Dorian noted.

"It might be better to bring him to her," Cullen said, stepping around his desk and picking up a cup of water. "We don't need to cause a scene. Morrigan is in a much more low profile location."

"We'll start with her, then. Although I imagine they'll both figure it out soon enough. Garrett will, at least. Fang has probably already found him." She stretched. "But I could also use something to eat. It's a long way from where I came. I have my ways, but…"

Cullen blinked a few times. "Fang?"

"His mabari. Hawke left him with me when he teamed up with Alistair to come out here."

His eyes narrowed, the pieces starting to come together. He hadn't realized the extent to which they'd associated with each other. He stood up. "What else did Hawke leave with you?"

"A bar tab, and a nasty hangover." Audra glared at him in challenge. "I know quite well what you're asking. And I'd rather this reunion not be soured by this conversation at this point, Cullen. Please." She grabbed her cloak from the peg by the door and pulled it closer around her.

"Fair enough." He didn't like where this was leading. The implication is that if she had Hawke's mabari, she'd been in close enough contact that she'd also been in contact with Anders. And if she was in contact with Anders, it wouldn't bode well for any of them. He had never answered for his crime in Kirkwall, and there were many who would never let that go. Cullen included.

She clasped her cloak. "Wonderful. Now that we've got that sorted out, I'd love to talk to Morrigan, and maybe get dry and get the dogs fed."

"There's a scout outside that door that can take you to someone who can help you." He suddenly felt awkward about the situation, and he wished he hadn't brought up Anders at all. "I… need to finish these reports."

Audra nodded. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just…" She paused. "Kirkwall was hard on everyone."

"We can talk later." Cullen picked up a pile of reports and started reading them. This was the last thing he needed.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Warden Commander," Dorian added, taking Audra's hands in his own. "Do you need any assistance?"

"Please, Audra is fine." She smiled at him. "And the pleasure is all mine. I'd prefer you stay here, as I'm glad that Cullen isn't all alone in the cold up here."

Dorian snorted. "Oh, no, never that. I need something to keep me warm in these dreadful nights in the mountains." He winked. "He even takes his armor off."

"You two are going to be the death of me, and you've been here less than a half hour." Cullen set down the papers and started eating a piece of bread.

"I'll see you both later." Audra exited through the indicated door, and Cullen sat down, shaking.

Dorian was immediately at his side. "Are you alright? You look as if you've seen a ghost." He reached down and laid his hand on the back of Cullen's neck, running his fingers through his hair.

Cullen closed his eyes and leaned into Dorian's touch. It soothed him, calmed him in ways that nothing else could. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Dorian, his fingers tangling in the mage's robes. We're here for each other. The thought steadied him. "That was… difficult."

"She seems charming enough."

"She is. You know what she meant to me back at Kinloch. But now…" All the memories of Kirkwall started flooding back. "I can't stop thinking about all of the dead we dug out of the rubble in Kirkwall, and I'm worried she's protecting the man that caused all of that death and destruction."

"I know what Kirkwall cost you, Cullen." Dorian leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Do you think you can focus on work?"

Cullen opened his eyes and held up his hand, feeling the tremor there. "No." His eyes drifted up to Dorian's face, reading the concern. "But I'm not sure I'm in any state to do you any justice, either."

"Then how about this," Dorian offered. "Eat something, then let's curl up by the fire and see what happens. Fair enough?"

Cullen managed a small smile as his stomach fluttered. He wasn't sure what this was between them. He wasn't sure he deserved it. But he wanted to be the man that deserved it. He reached his hand up to wrap around the back of Dorian's head, curling his fingers into his hair. He marveled at the darker tone of Dorian's skin, of the warmth of him under his own hand. The moments like this, where the world nearly faded away, and it was just them…

Those moments were everything. Cullen pulled Dorian to him and kissed him, then cupped his hand along Dorian's cheek, letting his thumb trace the bridge of his nose. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Dorian smiled at him. "Now finish eating before you collapse. You won't be of much good to me or the Inquisition laying on the floor." Dorian chuckled. "Although I'm sure I could find a use for you on the floor."

Cullen would have eaten all the food in Skyhold if it meant Dorian would keep smiling at him like that. "Dorian, I…" I love you. I love you more than I know how to tell you, and every day I'm afraid you'll find out the truth, of the people I've hurt, and I'll lose you. He took a breath. "I appreciate it. You. All of… this."

Laughing, Dorian directed Cullen back into his chair and sat down across from him. "As well you should appreciate me."

I do. More than you'll ever know. He didn't have the nerve to say it, so instead he ate and hoped for the day when he'd have the courage to tell Dorian everything. Soon, he promised himself. Soon.


	5. Raining Cats and Dogs

"Mother, there's a cat at the window," Kieran noted, looking up from his studies.

"Leave it be, Kieran." Morrigan looked up from the notes she was writing. An orange cat sat on the ledge, staring through the glass.

"Could it be hungry," Kieran offered. "It's raining pretty hard, too."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed, sensing a spell. "Tis no cat, Kieran." She stood, stalking to the door and opening it. "Well, well, someone taught you a little trick, didn't they?" she murmured as the cat turned and hissed at her. "Now that isn't very nice." She studied it, and in return it shook itself off, flinging water at her. "I could let you inside to fix this situation, but I'm not sure who, exactly, you are."

The cat jumped onto the ground and glanced over its shoulder into the darkness, and Morrigan heard a pant. Kieran came up next to her. "It's a mabari!" he exclaimed.

Out of the darkness, the dog trotted towards them, tail wagging. The cat backed up swiftly as the dog broke into a run and knocked Morrigan backwards onto the rug. She batted at it with one hand. "Ugh! Off, off of me!" She pushed at the mabari as it attempted to lick her face. Of course it would be this mabari. Of course. "I see you never grew out of drooling your weight in water." Despite her agitation at being drooled on, she found herself feeling a swell of hope that perhaps Audra Amell had found her way to Skyhold. Morrigan may have even missed the mabari a little, but she'd never admit it because the beast would be more insufferable than usual.

The dog wagged his tail and retreated a short distance, letting Morrigan get to her feet and dust herself off. The last time she'd seen this mabari, it had been shortly before she'd gone into the eluvian after Audra found her. "Well. I've heard of raining cats and dogs but this wasn't what they meant, I am certain." She glared down at the cat. "I suspect I know exactly who taught you this trick. Which tells me… who you most likely are. In which case, I can take you where you need to go." Hawke's quarters were not far from hers. She glanced back to Kieran. "Kieran, I shall return shortly."

He peered around the corner to look. "Oh," he said, startled. "That's a big cat."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Morrigan noted, rolling her eyes. "You could have picked a normal sized cat."

The cat swished its tail and walked past her into the room. "I did not say you could enter," she commented, turning from the door to attempt to block the cat from going any further. "My son is here."

The cat made a growling sound and dodged around her legs to cross the room, ending up in the bathroom. It pushed the door shut. Morrigan sighed and peered back out at the mabari. "Fine. Come in and babysit your charge."

The mabari disappeared for a moment, returning with a pack in tow. He jogged through the doorway and dropped the pack before heading straight to Kieran, licking his face. "Aw mother! Isn't he great?"

Morrigan shut the door. "Fantastic." She sighed. Now what, exactly, has Audra gotten us all into?

From the bathroom, she heard a voice call out. "I apologize for this, but I was running out of time and options."

"The spell doesn't last as long as any of us would like, I'm afraid." Morrigan took a stance outside of the door, ready to stand between her intruder and Kieran if necessary.

"No, it's not that. It's that… I really had to use a bathroom, and did not want to find myself needing to lick-"

"Stop," Morrigan called out, her suspicions confirmed. She did not expect a joke from him under the circumstances. While she had never met the man, she knew that a man in the form of a cat traveling with Audra Amell's mabari could be only one person.

She picked up the pack and carried it to the door. "I presume this is your pack."

The door cracked open and a hand reached out, pulling the pack back through before slamming the door shut again. "If it's not, I'm about to be wearing Audra's robes."

Kieran started laughing and Morrigan shot him a look. She trusted Audra to not bring danger to Skyhold, but several people in Skyhold would view this as a very poor sign. Particularly Cullen. The possibility existed that Cassandra and Leliana would also be concerned.

After a few moments, the door opened, and a tall, blonde man walked in, wearing pants and a tunic. His hair fell to just past his shoulders and one gold earring was in his right ear. "I'm sorry for the urgency." He winced. "I just couldn't go through that again."

Morrigan sighed, crossing her arms. "Anders, I presume."

"In the flesh. My not furry flesh." He managed a small smile. "I won't stay long. I'd rather no one know I'm here, but I asked Diablo to find someone I could trust. He brought me to you."

"Yes, well, shapeshifting apostates must stick together. I am Morrigan, and this is my son, Kieran." She gestured to a chair. She didn't know what she expected, but it certainly hadn't been this seemingly personable man. "Have a seat. Can I assume, with how quickly you arrived, that you traveled by eluvian?"

He nodded. "We got word of what happened and tried to get here as quickly as we could. We… were able to secure access to one."

"I won't ask." She put a pot of water onto the stove to warm it. "Did you travel through my eluvian, then?"

"Yes. That wasn't easy, believe me, but Audra and I had been working out the logistics of getting here as soon as Alistair and Hawke left." Anders watched Diablo settle himself in front of Kieran. "We had a feeling that something went wrong, but there was more to it than that. I'll let Audra explain that."

"Fair enough." Morrigan followed his gaze to her son, and back to Anders. "So, then, what of your spirit?"

Anders slumped slightly. "Also complicated. But no one is in any danger, if that's what you're thinking. We've had some time to work out a more beneficial arrangement. I've tried to let a lot go, which has helped him, too. It's not perfect, but we're in more of a constant dialogue with each other, rather than fighting each other for dominance."

"That must have been difficult." She wanted to point out that it also appeared dangerous, but under the circumstances of Kieran's conception, she felt it best to not to judge too harshly.

"It was. At his core, Justice can't stand those being treated unfairly. He's not always fine with me avoiding that, but we've managed to turn our attention to trying to find a cure for the Taint, or at the least, prevent the Calling. He and I are in agreement that the Wardens have protected many mages who would have otherwise been killed, or Maker forbid made Tranquil. So, we help the Wardens. It's the best compromise we have."

"Well, you'll find here that the Warden situation has… escalated." Morrigan pulled the chair from her desk. "It's not the best time to be a Warden here."

Anders frowned. "Worse than usual, then? We're aware of the false Calling."

"Most of them at Adamant attempted a blood sacrifice ritual, under the influence of Corypheus."

Sighing, Anders closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Of course they did."

"It is my understanding that Hawke unleashed Corypheus?"

"Yes. Which is why I'm confused how Hawke survived up until this point. When he left with Alistair… well." He shivered. "We said our goodbyes. I didn't expect him to make it back. That's how Hawke is."

"Apparently, Alistair overruled him," Morrigan noted. "When an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, you have… you people."

"Are you suggesting you aren't stubborn as well?" Anders asked.

"I did not say that." Morrigan regarded him, then stood, walking back to her pot of now-hot water. "I would have thought all of you would have heard your Callings by now. You are all far past when you should have heard them, yet you're still here." As she talked, she dropped a hefty pinch of tea leaves into a strainer and placed it over a cup, pouring water over it.

"Audra isn't as far from it as she'd like. And me, well…" He shrugged. "I'm immune for now."

"You're aware there's risk to any Warden that they will hear Corypheus's false Calling and be swayed to him?"

"We… are." Anders winced. "It's not pleasant, but I lived through it once with the help of Justice. Since then, we've learned to channel my unique connection to the Fade to help counter the Calling for periods of time. That's why I have to travel with Audra. I haven't got to check with her, but it's likely fairly quiet for her currently."

"You've worked out a spell that can block it for a time?" She lifted the strainer and set it aside, handing him the cup of tea.

"Thanks." Anders nodded. "We discovered it while working on a cure for the Taint. Given that the Taint seems to have started with the Fade, we've been doing research on it to determine if there's an answer there somewhere."

"Ah. So you've come to study it." Morrigan lifted a cup and placed the strainer on it, adding new tea leaves. She poured water over it and lifted the cup, holding onto its warmth.

Anders snorted. "Not entirely. We've mainly come to find Alistair. Audra is not convinced he's dead, but she can't consistently reach him. It's all unconscious, when she's asleep, and very hard to control. It's frustrating to her."

Kieran asked Diablo a question and the dog responded with his paw. He put a hand on the dog, scratching him behind the ears. "Bleeding and time work differently there, I think, but he's not doing well."

The cup slipped from Morrigan's hand and shattered on the floor, and everyone jumped. "What have you seen, Kieran?"

"In dreams. I've seen him." He hesitated. "There are demons, but also spirits. I think they're trying to help. Everything else is waiting for him to die."

Morrigan sidestepped the broken cup and dropped to her son's side, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

"I thought it was just dreams."

"And you?" Morrigan asked, turning to look at Anders.

"No, but my dreams are somewhat different anyway." Anders got off the chair and started picking up the pieces of the cup.

A knock sounded on Morrigan's door, and Anders froze. Morrigan pointed to the bathroom and Anders backed up, moving back through the door and closing it behind him.

Now what? Morrigan thought, sighing as she put her hand on the handle to open it.


	6. So Fortunate

Alistair's mabari had led Audra to a door near a garden. Light streamed through the window beside it, but she couldn't tell who would be inside. She had no idea where the mabari had brought her, but she assumed that Diablo had led Anders to somewhere or someone safe. She'd half expected it to be Leliana, but something told her that a room off on the far edges of Skyhold didn't fit.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked Akeva, squatting down in front of the mabari and scratching her behind the ears to reassure her. She knows he's gone. It broke her heart even more, which she hadn't thought was possible after trying to face the possibility of living the rest of her life without Alistair.

Akeva gazed from Audra to the door and back to Audra, looking reluctant. Audra leaned forward and planted a kiss on the dog's head. "How about this: can you find where the stables are? I'll bet we can probably find a spot for all of us there." She shivered, hoping that at the least there'd be somewhere that they'd be able to escape the biting wind that had come in with the rain.

With a bark, Akeva left to walk into the darkness and Audra got to her feet, turning back to the door and putting her hand on the heavy iron knocker. It felt sold and cold under her hand, and for a moment she worried about what she wound find. She trusted Diablo to find Anders somewhere safe to go, but at the same time, there were complexities to people that mabari didn't always understand. She knocked three times, then waited for the door to open, shifting from foot to foot to try to generate some warmth.

The door swung inward, and the light from inside the room caused her to blink a couple of times. A dark figure stood in the door, and Audra drew a surprised breath as the other woman's face became clear in her vision. Most striking were her golden eyes.

The last time she'd seen Morrigan, she hadn't thought that she would see her again. She had never been so glad to be wrong. "Morrigan," she blurted out, throwing her arms around her old friend. Her hands clutched at the woman's back, feeling the warmth of her skin. Few people understood what she and Alistair had truly been through together, and no one had a clearer picture of that than Morrigan. "Can I hug you?"

The other woman laughed, and Audra realized that she seemed to laugh more easily than she once had. "I think we're already past asking." She wrapped her arms around Audra. "You're as wet as your dog always is."

Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes at the sound of her voice, but Audra managed a smile. "Charming as always." Her mind raced, wondering why Leliana had not told her. Or… Oh. Leliana had told her that she had an old friend her. She'd assumed that was Cullen, but in thinking on it further, her words made more sense. Her composure crumbled and she heaved a sob into Morrigan's shoulder, suddenly grateful.

She had so many questions. Where had Morrigan gone? What about her son? Had Flemeth ever come after them?

She stepped back out of Morrigan's arms and regarded her. She appeared very much like Audra remembered, all the way down her robes, which couldn't possibly be warm enough in a place like Skyhold.

The sound of Diablo's tail thumping against something caused her to look over his direction, and she realized that the dog stood beside a boy. Her breath caught in her throat. His resemblance to Morrigan's was striking, and a casual observer wouldn't have noticed anything more than that. Audra leaned against the doorway, feeling suddenly disoriented. It's him. The child that Alistair fathered in the ritual that saved both of their lives. She could see hints of it in the shape of his nose.

She'd spent years feeling guilty about that ritual, as if she'd cheated a death that should have claimed her. And I had. The guilt had faded, but they'd never known what happened to this child. What or who he was. Confronted with him, she felt her heart thudding. He's a normal, beautiful boy.

Seeing Morrigan's alarmed expression, Audra pulled her face into a more composed expression. Her mind felt like a whirlwind of confusion, conflicting emotions, and burning questions. They'd have a lot to talk about. "It's good to see you."

"You as well." Morrigan stepped aside to let Audra enter, shutting and locking the door behind her.

Diablo came to her side and sat patiently until Audra patted him on the head. "Good boy. Did you find a friend?"

"Kieran," Morrigan said, gesturing to him. He came over and Morrigan put an arm around his shoulders. "This is a very old friend of mine, Audra Amell."

"The Hero of Ferelden." He smiled. "Hello."

The slight quirk in his smile caused her heart to ache. "Hello, Kieran." The sight of him overwhelmed her with a strange sense of relief, not just for the fact that he seemed so normal, but that Morrigan seemed happy. She wanted to hug him, to know he's real, but there was a line that she couldn't cross yet.

"You've known my mother a long time."

"I have. Since before you were born." She looked over at Morrigan. "Mind if we talk? I think we have a lot to catch up on." She scanned the room, looking for Anders in either cat or human form. "I assumed that my cat made it here, but I don't see him."

"Here!" Anders called from another room, opening the door. "Just wanted to give you all some time to say your hellos. Whatever touchy feely stuff."

"No one saw you?" she asked, concerned particularly about anyone that would get word back to Cullen.

"No. They saw an orange cat."

"A big orange cat," Kieran commented.

"Yes, well, go big or go home." Anders stretched. "Do I need to turn back so you can smuggle me somewhere else?" He plucked at his shirt. "I just got dressed but that's easily fixed."

Morrigan shook her head. "You may stay here for now. Audra and I have some… things to discuss."

"Kieran, I'm glad you're here," Anders commented, taking a seat on the floor. "Otherwise, Diablo has no one to drool on but me."

The whole scene seemed so normal: Anders sitting crosslegged across from her dog and her husband's son that had been fathered with Morrigan. If only we had Alistair here.

She could feel any smile she'd managed to keep up drop from her face, and she turned away to hide her expression. Morrigan threw on a cloak and led Audra outside, where the cold still cut right through her cloak. She pulled the hood up over her head. "Is there somewhere we can talk? I'd rather no one overhear what we're about to discuss."

"We'll go back to the room with the eluvian," Morrigan said, taking the lead. "How did you find it?"

"We weren't able to find it until Garrett was here, actually. We'd been trying to find one somewhat close to here, but it's hard unless we've got something to sort of… attune to. In the case of this eluvian, we were able to use a spell similar to what's used to track mages with a phylactery. Even though he's not a mage, he's Amell blood so I was able to use our eluvian to get to the crossroads, then find one where his sister could sense him." They'd been lucky that they'd been able to reach Bethany, given her place among the mages of the Circle in Kirkwall, but she'd come immediately to their assistance.

"That's quite the spell." Morrigan arched an eyebrow. "How long have you been experimenting with this?"

"A little bit," Audra admitted. "We have an eluvian near us, thanks to a contact of Garrett's, and we've used it to try to get a sense of where we can go." She'd been grateful for Merrill's assistance with the eluvian. "We did not try to track Kieran, if that was your concern. In fact, we had no idea where you were here at all." She reached out and put a hand on Morrigan's shoulder. "And we weren't going to come looking for you. That's what you asked for."

"I… appreciate that. More than you know."

They reached the room with the eluvian, and Morrigan cleared a sheet off of a couch that was to one side of the room. She sat down. "I am sorry I never contacted you."

"Morrigan," Audra said, sitting down on the other end of the couch. "Let's make something clear. You were a dear friend of mine, but you owed us nothing. Not even Alistair." She reached out and took Morrigan's hands in hers. "You saved us."

"And you both gave me Kieran."

"I'll venture that Alistair may have had more of a part in that than I." Even though that had hurt Alistair at the time; as a bastard himself, growing up without a father was painful thing to consider inflicting on a child.

"You say that, but he never would have done it if you hadn't been willing to accept it. I know it was…" She hesitated, staring down at their hands. "Difficult. I know it is not what Alistair wanted."

"What he, and I, wanted, was a chance to be together and keep the Wardens strong." For the time that they could, anyway. After a time, as they realized what was left of their lives was slipping away, it became harder to keep the Wardens strong. We've both been so tired and we're just ready to live out the rest of our days with our dogs and our friends. "You gave us that. Don't get me wrong, it was hard at the time. Alistair… he was upset, when he came back. After being with you." Audra remembered him crying, asking what have we done?

"I know. But I did what I did to save you both." Morrigan squeezed Audra's hands. "He's a normal boy, Audra. He's brilliant. He's brave, like his father."

Audra had to ask. "Did Alistair meet him?"

"He did, briefly."

Closing her eyes, Audra nodded, swallowing. "Thank you. For giving him that. He always wondered about him."

"I'm sorry I didn't give him the chance sooner. I just felt it was better if our paths didn't cross. For all our sakes."

"Morrigan," Audra croaked, raising her head. She felt a tear slip down her cheek. "You know you and Kieran would always be welcome to us. It didn't matter how he was conceived. At the time, Alistair was devastated, but not because it was you."

"It was because I was not you. I know it hurt him. And you. I am… sorry, for that."

"Maker, Morrigan, no, that's not what this is about. Never be sorry. Not for that beautiful boy, and not for us." Her hands closed tighter around Morrigan's. "If not for you, either Alistair or I would have died. And I wouldn't have let it be him. Without you… I never would have had the chance to live all these years with the man I love. I would never have had the chance to know my cousin. Alistair and I have saved lives together. We had the most ridiculous Grey Warden wedding." It had been more than she'd ever thought she'd had. They'd gotten married wearing their Grey Warden armor, and their union brought hope to many of the other Wardens that becoming a Warden didn't mean you had to be alone. We carried the burdens together. "Everyone brought us alcohol and food because we were heroes. I don't think anyone has ever got so much free wedding. Alistair ate so much cheese that I was sure he'd be sick, but the next day he was up like nothing happened." Audra managed a smile. "I never expected a happy ending, from the time I was old enough to realize what the world did to mages. I've been so fortunate." She squeezed Morrigan's hands. "That's you."

Morrigan's eyes were wide and she tilted her head to the side slightly. "I… did not realize how much it meant to you."

"It was hard at the time to understand it." Audra remembered talking to Morrigan about having Alistair father a child with her, in order to absorb the Archdemon's essence and save her or Alistair from having to die. "We had to sit around talking about which one of us would sacrifice ourselves. And it was horrible. We both knew that no matter which of us went, the other would be left alone. Maybe it was selfish of us, but we couldn't do it." Alistair, walking from the room to go to Morrigan's. Audra waited, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for him to return. When he finally came back, his eyes were pained, as if he'd betrayed her. He'd wanted to go his whole life having had no one else but me. At the time, she felt like she betrayed him, too.

They'd held each other until they both fell asleep. It had been the hardest night of their lives. "I remember your last words before we stormed Denerim. 'Live well, my friend. Live gloriously'."

"And you did," Morrigan said softly.

"But I missed you. We were best friends, once."

"That is not negated by how long it has been since we spoke, is it?"

"You are going to make me cry" Audra drew in a deep breath. "I can see how much you love him. It's good for you. You're everything that your mother was not. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." Her face softened. "When I called you a sister, I meant it."

"No matter how far away we are, you're family. I just want you to know that…" She met Morrigan's gaze. "You and Kieran always have a home with us."

Morrigan was silent for a long moment, appearing to be lost in thought. Finally she regarded Audra. "Why did you come to Skyhold?"

Sighing, Audra let go of Morrigan's hands and wiped at her face. "I don't think Alistair is dead. I'm dreaming about him constantly. He's injured. Sometimes he's talking to me, sometimes he's just babbling. And I don't even understand how he got there, but he's trapped somehow."

"He entered the Fade physically, with the Inquisitor." She hesitated. "Kieran says he has dreamed of Alistair as well."

Audra's heart leapt in her chest. "Then it's possible. He could be alive."

"Tis my understanding that it was a dire situation, I would caution against too much hope." Morrigan placed a hand on Audra's shoulder. "But we've faced impossible odds before."

"That we have." Audra managed a smile. "I'd considered meeting with your Inquisitor in the morning, but perhaps we should consider this sooner rather than later."

"And I was enjoying having a quiet night in." Morrigan sighed. "How safe is your mage?"

Audra dreaded this sort of question and suppressed her urge to snap. "For you and Kieran? Absolutely safe. Neither will harm anyone unless harmed first, or if harm is threatened. Believe me, neither would hurt Kieran for instance, but I'm certain that if Kieran was threatened by someone, it would not end well for that person."

"Fair enough." Morrigan sat back and pondered. "Does Anders know who Kieran's father is?"

"Maker, no. Anders knows many of my own secrets, but how your son came to be is a secret I will carry to my grave. It is not for me to disclose, ever."

Morrigan nodded. "I… thank you."

"No need to thank me. We're family. This is what family does." Audra stood, brushing away the dust she'd picked up from the old couch. "Do you mind if Anders stays with Kieran for a while?"

"That is fine. It sounds like it might be the safest place for them both. I am certain that Cullen will not take kindly to Anders being here."

Audra shook her head. "That's why I'm not telling him unless it's absolutely necessary."

"You will find it's hard to keep secrets for long here," Morrigan noted.

"I don't have to keep it for long, just for long enough to do what needs to be done." I hope that Cullen and Leliana can forgive me for this.

"Audra, did you ever…" Morrigan hesitated a moment. "Were you able to use the information I gave you about how to potentially cure the Taint?"

Audra ran a hand through her hair. She had wondered when that question would come up, given the final conversation she ever had with Morrigan. "I did. I think I know how to do it. It's taken a lot of effort. I just don't know how to…" She trailed off, thinking. Her research had shown that she could bind the Taint and pull it from them, but she'd found no way to bind it far enough away to remove it.

The Fade might just be far enough away.

The implications ran through her head. Of course. She could save Alistair… and end the Taint. At the same time. Her eyes widened and she found herself staring at Morrigan. "We can bind the Taint into something we leave in the Fade, so that leaving it will remove it."

"Surely you can't be serious," Morrigan scoffed, then she paused, and Audra watched the realization dawn on her face. "You are serious. And it may work."

Audra nodded, reaching out a hand to bring Morrigan to her feet. "It just may." If it doesn't kill us in the process.

Either way, though, she and Alistair were dead if it didn't work. They had nothing to lose.


	7. Not Just Any Man

After finishing eating, Zaire took enough time to change into something clean before wrapping herself in a dry oilcloth cloak and heading out into the storm. She stuck to the shadows and corners, careful to keep her hair covered as it was her most obvious feature at a glance. The rain hit her cloak, pattering against her hood and blocking out a good deal of what she could hear. It almost drowned out the sound of her heart thudding in her chest, and she wondered how she could close breaches, kill Venatori, and help take down a dragon, but didn't know what to say to one man.

He wasn't just any man, though, and that was the issue.

She crept up on the barn and lingered near the entrance for a moment. He had indeed returned, and sat beside the fire, carving a block of wood. She took a moment to watch him. From where she stood, she could see him in profile, bent over his work and lit by the firelight. His hands were steady, but she saw a tremor in his shoulders. He'd taken off the padded layer of armor he usually wore, and it sat over a chair nearby, she presumed to dry. His hair fell around his face as he worked, the fire lighting his skin in soft light and harsh shadow. It was a state she rarely saw him in, a level of vulnerability that she wasn't accustomed to him showing outside of their most private interactions.

He looked as if the layers had been stripped away, leaving just the man underneath. Who was this man? Not Blackwall the Grey Warden, not Thom Rainier, just… him. He looked beaten down, resigned to his fate. Tired.

He had hurt her, and she had hurt him in return.

I'll never find out who he really is if I don't ask. Shivering, she pulled the cloak around her and stepped forward, starting for him. One of the horses nudged at his door as she passed. She looked up to find Scotch looking down at her. He wasn't hers, as he was far too tall for her to ride, but he tended to be a favorite of Blackwall's, so she spent a lot of time with him. She paused in front of the door, even though she couldn't reach without pulling up a stool. The stable doors in Skyhold weren't made with dwarves in mind. "I can't pet you from down here, sorry."

Blackwall's head snapped up and watched as she approached. "M'lady," his voice rumbled, as he scrambled to his feet, setting aside his carving.

She shook her head. "Sit down. It's fine." She watched him cautiously sit, and unclasped her cloak, pulling it from her shoulders and shaking it out before hanging it on a hook on a pillar close enough to the fire to help dry it faster. She took a seat near him by the fire, close to him but not close enough. The fire was warm and helped heat her from her cold trip through the rain. The distance between them felt massive and it hurt, not touching him. Even more than that, the pain that she felt the most was not knowing where they stood with each other.

They sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke. "It's… good to see you."

She'd missed hearing the rumble of his voice and was struck with a sudden desire to hear him just say her name. "It's good to see you, too." She stared into the fire, struggling with words. Start simple. "Is there anything you actually know about the Wardens? Or did you make it all up?"

"I made very little up." He reached next to him and picked up a piece of wood that he was not carving, throwing it into the fire. Sparks scattered into the air. "I also feared you knew enough to contradict me. Warden Blackwall told me a bit before my initiation. But it is a… secretive order. Not even the most senior Wardens know all there is to know."

It seemed like the perfect place for someone like him to hide. She nodded. "I started to get concerned around the time we went to Valamar and you didn't seem to be able to know when the Darkspawn where coming." He'd nearly gotten her killed that day. His inability to actually detect Darkspawn had led them into an ambush where the odds ended up being against them. Zaire had gotten bruises all over her body and a black eye from that. She remembered the look of complete devastation on his face when he looked at the marks where the Darkspawn had choked her. She could see that look in a different light, now.

His posture deflated. "No. That's… part of why I left. I failed to protect you. My lie got you hurt."

The uncertain wavering in his voice hurt as much as those bruises had. "It could have happened even if you had felt that there were darkspawn there."

"We got lucky." He put his hands down on his knees, hard. "That could have been worse."

She wished that she could make him laugh, or smile, or anything. It had been easy to be angry when she wasn't here with him. He looked broken, overwhelmed. Not the confident man who talked down the Wardens at Adamant, or even the gruff mentor that taught people how to fight back to defend themselves. "At least now we know why you were never worried about Corypheus's Calling."

"Yes. I have none of the Wardens' abilities, and none of the... drawbacks." He sighed. "Still, I would've fought through the darkest pits of the Deep Roads, like any true Warden. There's more to it than being able to sense Darkspawn. Warden Blackwall would have agreed."

She started to lift her hand towards him and forced herself not to, instead folding her hands in her lap. "The Wardens at Adamant listened to you. They saw you as one of their own."

"Perhaps it takes an outsider to show how much of yourself you've lost. I never understood the reality of being a Warden. I only saw the ideal. I suppose I reminded them of something they'd forgotten."

"They'd forgotten a lot." Zaire rubbed her gloved hand against her bare hand, trying to warm them and failing. Rain pounded onto the roof of the barn, and she found herself thankful for everyone working so hard for the Inquisition. "You have a lot of respect for the Wardens."

He glanced towards his Warden armor, still in a corner. "They take all men, from the most noble to the most despicable, and make them equals. I needed to believe something like that was possible."

Nodding, she thought for a moment before speaking. It was not that far removed from what she tried to do with the Inquisition, and perhaps that underscored that he belonged here with them. However, she would do him a disservice if she didn't offer alternatives, even if she loathed them. "You still have the choice of going to them, if you feel that's what you need to do." She hated the idea of him leaving, but it would have to be his choice to make.

"Is that what you want?"

"Maker, no." Zaire tucked her unmarked hand into her coat to try to warm it. "But I gave you your freedom so that you could choose."

"I didn't deserve that freedom, Zaire."

She gritted her teeth, starting to get frustrated with his denial of his own worth. "Maybe you didn't. It was a hard call to make." She looked at him, trying to gauge some sort of reaction. He kept his eyes on the fire. "But it was my decision."

"I don't understand why."

Ok, that's it. "You don't have to understand," she snapped, shaking her head. "If you want me to say it, then I'll just say it." She got to her feet and crossed her arms. "First of all, I'm sorry for what I said. About not loving you. I heard your lie and I lashed out with one of my own. Maybe I was trying to tell myself it was the truth, so that what was to come would be easier. And you saw through that." Of course he had, because he knew her that well. The thought made her mad and she squared her jaw. "I didn't care who you were. I never did. We all screwed up somewhere. I used to be a lyrium smuggler. Did you know that I'd smuggled lyrium to Kirkwall? To Samson?" She'd never admitted that to another person. I'm just fortunate that Samson hasn't recognized me. "Did you know that I've contributed to the addiction of more former Templars than I can even recall." She threw her arms up in the air. "What do you think anyone would think of me if they knew?"

"Zaire-"

"No." Her hands balled up into fists at her sides. "You don't get to sit here and pretend that you're the only one that's fucked up. You made a bad decision, and you gave some shit orders. I'm no better than you. I don't care," she snarled, taking a half step towards him. "I cared that you had chances to tell me you weren't a Warden. You lied to me about that. We used your credentials to forge alliances." Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. "I trusted you."

He turned to her and reached out, taking her ungloved hand. She pulled her hand free, leaving him with his hand held out towards her, waiting. She met his gaze and held back a sob that she would refuse to let out.

"I'm a man. Who made terrible mistakes. Who fell in love with you."

She stared at him, feeling her composure crack and not caring. "You want to know why I let you go? Because you deserve a second chance. Because there's a man somewhere in the Hinterlands who told me about a man who was helping others fight. You." She looked down at his hand still reaching out and fought taking it in hers with every instinct she had. "Every day I'm fighting." She held up her marked hand. "The mark hurts. It takes its toll. One day, it might take me with it, for all I know. I'm fighting so that everyone can have a chance at life. At making it through this. A fight I might not survive. I just want the same chance at something good that I'm giving every other person. I'm giving up everything for the Inquisition." She met his eyes. "I didn't want to give you up, too. Even if you lied, even if you didn't trust me enough to tell me." Reaching out, she planted her hands against his chest and shoved. His body rocked backwards and resisted her push. "You think your life didn't have value? That's not fair to you, it's not fair to me, and it's not fair to any of us who have fought beside you."

He reached for her wrists and wrapped his hands around them. "It was fair that I pay for my crimes."

She pulled her arm free and punched him hard in the shoulder. She felt irrational, angry, and she was past caring. "You left. I tried to tell myself it was the Calling, but you resisted Corypheus's calling, then I started to worry you went crazy. Then I thought it was me. I thought I was why you left." She spun around and picked up a log, throwing into the fire. Just to take all that rage that was bubbling up and put it somewhere. "I didn't know what happened to you, if it was me, if it was a Warden thing, if I needed to come after you." Swatting his hands aside, she stalked around him, her voice rising as she spoke. "I just wanted… I just wanted you." Her posture sagged. "That's all. I didn't care about Warden Blackwall, or Thom Rainier, whatever name you wanted to call yourself." She stopped back in front of him, standing between him and the fire, staring at him. All she wanted was one simple answer from him. "Why didn't you trust me?"

He stared up at her, his eyes wide. He held his arms out. "I'm sorry." He winced. "That… doesn't begin to cover it."

The sorrow on his face was more than she could take, and as she finally felt a tear slip down her face, she fell to her knees in front of him and let him hold her. She couldn't stop herself from shaking.

Wrapping his arms around her, he laid his chin on the top of her head. It felt more like home than anything she'd ever known, and she hated that he'd stayed so calm when she could not. "There aren't any words that will fix this, I know."

"Then just stop talking." She closed her eyes and let him hold her against him, breathing in the scent of him, of leather and sweat and wood chips. His hand stroked her hair as she curled up against him, wishing that she could take back everything they'd both said. His warmth and solid hold calmed her. His arms formed a barrier that kept out the rest of the world, even if for a moment.

He kissed the top of her head and just held her until she stopped shaking. "It was never about you," he murmured.

"I know that now." She pulled away from him, taking his hand in hers. He shifted towards her and placed his other hand over hers, holding it. That simple motion held in it a thank you, a declaration of love, and relief.

He held her hand in his, warming it. "What do you think will happen to us after all this? A house? A dog?" He smiled. "Do you think that mark of yours can be used for cooking eggs?"

"Would you want to eat an egg cooked with this?" She held up her gloved hand.

"Perhaps not. We could just continue as we are. No eggs necessary." He reached a hand up and brushed his fingers along her cheek. "As long as you're by my side, I don't care what happens."

She leaned into his side as he put an arm around her. "I'm sorry for yelling. Can we just pretend the last few days didn't happen?"

"No. Nor should we. This has been… well. Certainly not me at my best." He pulled her against him and rested his chin on her head.

Not my best, either. "What do I call you?" she asked softly.

"I've gotten used to 'Blackwall.' Perhaps we could treat it as less of a name and more of a title. Almost like 'Inquisitor.' Reminds me of what I ought to be. And… I'm not ready for you to say that other name."

Zaire wasn't sure what answer she expected. A part of her wanted to call him Thom, to just try out how it felt to say out loud. But is he ready for that? Am I ready for that? "Is this some fetish about my Marcher accent and the way I say Blackwall?"

"I do like the way you say it." His hand drifted up to the back of her neck and he rubbed at it. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his touch.

His hand stilled and she opened her eyes when she felt him tense. "What?"

"I didn't mean get a dog now," he noted, and she followed his gaze to find a mabari watching them from the door.

"That wasn't me. Although wouldn't that be clever on my part." She stood, dusting herself off, and gestured to the mabari. "Where'd you come from?"

"She's beautiful," Blackwall commented, coming forward and kneeling before the dog.

She trotted up and stopped in front of them, her head hung low. Blackwall reached out and scratched her head, and while she leaned into his hand, her tail did not wag. Instead, she looked past him. "Not even a wag?"

Zaire followed the mabari's gaze to Blackwall's Warden armor. Oh no. "No." She looked down at the dog. "Aren't mabari smart and very attached to their masters?"

"They are." Blackwall looked over his shoulder, and his face fell. "She was Alistair's?"

"Was. Shit." Zaire started pacing. "Not good."

Blackwall looked alarmed, and started to get to his feet. The marbari walked around and stopped him, putting a paw on his knee and putting her weight on it so that she could lick his face. "I'm not sure what this means."

"I think it means dogs like you." Zaire watched Blackwall reach out and scratch the dog behind her ears.

"I'm more concerned that it implies that the Warden Commander is here." He glanced nervously back at the armor. The mabari backed up and let Blackwall stand, and he started to gather the armor to put it into a trunk.

"Maker be damned, this is not going to be my night." Zaire sighed, rubbing at her forehead. "I'm going to sort this out."

"I'll come with you," he offered, but she shook her head.

"No. Let's not stir the Warden pot." She looked up at him. "I… I think I still need time to process this. To be close to you."

"That's fair. It's more than what I deserve." He got to his knees in front of her and held her face in his hands for a moment before kissing her. "I've missed you."

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him, then backed up and punched him in the shoulder. "Don't every put me through this again, Blackwall. I swear to the Maker that you'd better not have any more secrets up your sleeve."

"No secrets, m'lady. I promise."

Taking him at his word, Zaire stood up and reached a hand out the mabari. "How about you take me to meet who you've come with?"

The mabari barked, once, and left the barn, Zaire following. Just before she left the barn, she realized she was about to walk back out into the storm without her cloak. She turned to get it to find that Blackwall had already gotten it and was walking to her. He got to his knees in front of her and put it over her shoulders, then leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She turned her head so that his mouth landed on her own, and kissed him. It felt like home. "You don't get away that easily," she said, managing a smile.

"I don't plan on getting away at all." He got to his feet and started back to the fire, and she turned to follow the mabari into the darkness and rain.

"I do know my way around," Zaire commented, "but your nose is probably going to get us farther than me trying to find who you are here with."

The dog's tail wagged a couple of times and she looked up at Zaire. They moved through Skyhold, the mabari occasionally stopping to sniff the air or ground.

Near the tavern, Zaire saw another mabari waiting, who barked once when he saw them coming. "Another one? How many of you are there?"

They both stood outside the tavern door, waiting for her to open the door. Sighing, Zaire pushed it open, and the two dogs bolted through the door. She followed, closing the door behind them.


	8. Like A Brother

"Well, Varric," Garrett Hawke said, sitting a mug of ale down in front of each of them. "I'm planning on leaving Skyhold in the morning."

Varric smirked, leaning forward. "Actually leaving, or putting it off another day?"

"Actually for real leaving." Hawke took a big drink of his ale. "I miss home." I miss Anders. He didn't bother to say it out loud, but he missed his mage with his golden hair and beautiful eyes. It generally had served him better not to bring it up, even if it hurt. It hurt to love someone so much and hardly get to talk to anyone about them. Even to a friend as close as Varric had been. Zaire had been kind enough to listen and had seemed sympathetic, but it had taken a lot of thought on his part before he'd been willing to talk to her.

The dwarf across from him took a drink of his ale. "Where is your home, these days? You've never told me."

"I'm not falling for that trick, Varric." It was better if no one else knew where he'd been holed up with Anders and the few Grey Wardens. Far away from Corypheus's reach. He raised his mug towards Varric. "Let's toast to me fading back into my obscurity where I can't fuck up anything else."

Varric lifted his mug and clicked it against Hawke's. "How about toasting to the Champion of Kirkwall instead." He set the cup down. "Are you still blaming yourself for-"

"Yes. And you would be blaming me, too, if you have any sense." Hawke sat back, regarding his friend. They'd been the best of friends since shortly after they met, after Hawke arrived in Kirkwall, but what had later happened with Anders and the Mage Rebellion had caused some tensions between them and Hawke had kept his distance since, out of respect for Varric. "Maybe I saved Kirkwall, but accidentally helped blow it up. I released Corypheus, then we killed him, then he came back. Now? I tried to fix that, and Alistair had to one up me." He shook his head. "Figures."

Varric shook his head. "Come on, Hawke. That's not really how you look at it, is it?"

Hawke rubbed at his beard. "He was my cousin's husband, Varric." It felt like a rock settled in his stomach, at how he'd feel if he'd lost Anders. He just wanted to get home and hug Audra and tell her that he was sorry. That this wasn't what he wanted. "I've fucked up her life, too."

"Self pity doesn't suit you. It could have been a lot worse."

"No, Varric." Hawke remembered the last time they'd tried to talk about Anders, shortly after he'd arrived. They'd had a night to catch up over drinks, very similar to the night they were currently having. Hawke had laughed it off then, but couldn't find the energy to do anything other than try to shut the conversation down. "We're not going to talk about Anders again."

"What do you mean, again? You barely mention him to me."

"You think I don't hear your comments?" Hawke snorted. He supposed the one thing more painful than not being able to talk about Anders was not being able to talk about him to someone who had been there through it all, who had called them both friends. Varric had been there when Hawke had stumbled into the Hanged Man to drink one night, after another frustrating night where he'd left the clinic wanting nothing more than to drag the healer back to his mansion, and Anders steadfastly putting his duty first. "Varric, I love you like a brother, but you've made it clear that you think I'd be better off far away from him."

"Would you? Can you tell me that you're happy with a man that killed that many innocents? In my home?"

That's enough of that. "What are you talking about, Varric? We routinely sacrifice innocents now, every other week. It's how we have quality time." Hawke slammed his mug down on the table. "So, if you want to know?" Hawke took a deep breath. "At first, after we got out of Kirkwall, I wondered if that love I had for him would fade, if resentment would start to build. I waited for it. I waited to get really mad. Not just mad like I was, but really mad." He'd been mad at being lied to, and he'd been lied that he'd had to flee Kirkwall. Mad that he'd had to leave everything behind. He'd effectively lost his home in Ferelden, and then his home in Kirkwall. "And it hurt. I tried to laugh it off, I tried to joke, but I watched Anders retreat into himself. I wanted to be mad, then. Just to be able to have it out." The depression had started to crush Anders from the inside out, and Hawke hadn't known how to help him. The memory caused his chest to tighten up. "He fought against Justice constantly, as Justice wanted to keep fighting, and Anders was ready to give up." More than just give up the fight; Anders hadn't planned on surviving that long. He hadn't thought about what would come next, how he'd move forward. Anders came out of it not knowing what he would say to Hawke, what they'd do with their lives, because he'd assumed that Hawke would just move on after Anders was gone. I loved him too much to ever let him go.

"I didn't hear any reports of explosions, so I'm assuming he landed on some variation of giving up?"

"Not on my watch." Hawke took another drink from his mug, fighting to control his voice. "Would it make you feel better to know it was weeks before we could touch each other? Before we could be anything other than two people on the run?" It had been some of the worst weeks of his life, separated from his sister, his friends, and finally, his lover. There had been days when he'd just watched Anders sleep, wanting so bad to just hold him but not knowing how to bridge the gap. "Justice and I fought, in the spaces between. Anders stopped caring so much that half the time, I was arguing with a spirit that couldn't and would never be able to understand what I was trying to say."

Varric waved to the barmaid for more drinks. "Come on, Hawke, it was doomed from the start."

Finishing his drink, Hawke put the cup down and put his elbows on the table. "Challenge accepted." Those were rough days, for them both. There were times when he wouldn't see Anders for days at a time, but Justice kept following Hawke for Anders's sake, or so he said. "We stuck together. The best we could. And then…" Hawke hesitated. These days with Anders were the most private that he had, and few people knew. He looked around to make sure that no one was listening. "We had taken refuge somewhere far away, I'm not even sure where. We were both growing beards that would put your average dwarf to shame. He was losing so much weight and hadn't been eating." Hawke paused, remembering the haunted look in Anders' eyes, during the times he remained. "But something started to change. The farther we got from Kirkwall, from the Templars, that drive to fight just sharply faded. I felt like Anders had started to withdraw so far, just to protect himself from how much he hurt."

"He wasn't the only one."

"Yeah, well, a lot of people hurt him to get him to that point. Have you ever seen how many scars he's covered in, Varric?" Hawke could picture each of them in stark relief in his head. Anders remembered the source of every one of them and had recited them to Hawke once. I wanted to take them all away for him.

The dwarf fell silent as the drinks arrived, and he pushed one to Hawke. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Tell me that anyone deserved that. Even him."

"Of course not, but that doesn't undo what he did."

Hawke got halfway out of his seat, his patience wearing thin. Why am I even having this conversation? "Do you want to hear what happened, or do you want me to leave? I can do that."

"Sit the fuck down, Hawke." Varric gestured at him with his hand. "You know me, I'm always being an asshole."

"We used to all be assholes together." Hawke dropped back into his seat, closing his eyes. "Finally it was me and Justice and I was starting to worry if Anders was coming back. I went looking for my cousin. She had another Warden with her, by the name of Nathaniel Howe. And he looked at Anders or Justice or whoever he was… and he spoke directly to Justice and said that he'd forgotten what he'd told him. Justice reared up, and then was… silent. They were both gone." Hawke wouldn't admit it to anyone, but at the time he'd been terrified. "I was left with some Wardens and a shell." He'd held Anders to him whispering at him to wake up. Through all that time in Kirkwall, Hawke had never once felt like he was completely losing his mind. The moments after Anders collapsed challenged all of the composure Hawke thought he had. "Nathaniel told me that he'd known Justice and Anders both, before they'd merged."

Varric almost dropped his drink. "Can you set me up an interview with this guy?"

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." Hawke rolled his eyes. "He'd once talked with Justice about the ethics of joining with a living host. They'd discussed the right circumstances for it. Life. Love." Nathaniel's explanation made a lot of things more clear about Anders and Justice both, and having the perspective of someone that knew them separately had been immensely helpful to Hawke. "That together, perhaps spirit and host could do together what they could not do alone. 'If you gave instead of taking, I would consider you no demon'."

Reaching into his pocket, Varric fumbled something out and bent over it. After a moment, Hawke realized what he was doing. "Did you really just write that down?"

"Damn right I did. But you still haven't told me why I should drop my grudge."

"Varric, I swear to the Maker…" Hawke sighed. "You know what? I don't care if you write this all down anymore. Have at it." He would just leave out the best bits. "I spent almost a week waiting for either of them to come back. Anders would thrash around, then fall still. We hid with the Wardens, and I waited for him to come back, for either of them to." They'd laid him on a bed, and Hawke was certain they were just waiting for him to die. There was a stream of visitors, as it turned out that despite Anders having considered himself no longer a Warden, he still had friends within the order. Including Hawke's own cousin, the Hero of Ferelden. "My cousin poured healing magic into Anders, trying to do anything to bring him back, but finally determined that his body was fine, it was his mind that was gone. So I waited."

Varric had gone still. "Did he…?"

Hawke realized that he'd gone from mad to enjoying dragging Varric along on a story for once. "Wouldn't you hate if I just ended the story here?" Grinning, Hawke finished the ale. "It'd be what you'd deserve."

"You wouldn't." Varric looked down at his ale and back up to Hawke. "I want to believe you that things have changed. I don't want to hate him. But look at what you both left me: a city in ruins, a trail of dead bodies, a traumatized Templar made Knight Commander, who was living in just as much horror realizing what the Templars had done. Some people around here are still cleaning up that mess."

"I've got a lot of sympathy for Dorian, if that's what you're getting at." He pondered. "Do you really care if Anders woke up or not? You could go on with the rest of your life thinking he died, and you could write it in a book, and everyone would believe it."

Shaking his head, Varric looked at Hawke with a surprising amount of sympathy. "But he didn't."

"I waited every day. We tried everything, we even brought him cats." In fact, Audra had managed to get a hold of Anders's friend in Amaranthine and get back the cat she had given Anders as a kitten, Ser Pounce-a-lot. They still had the cat, even, and as soon as she'd brought the cat back he started shamelessly bossing the dogs around. "And every evening, I'd… sit with him." Holding Anders's head in his lap, his fingers on the mage's face. Come back to me, he'd whispered. We'll work this out. He didn't know how he'd feel when Anders woke up, but he wanted to know. Who would be the man that would greet him? Would it be the one he'd fallen for in Kirkwall so many years ago? The angry apostate that destroyed a chantry? The broken man in a constant war with the spirit within him? The spirit that Hawke had fought with? "After a couple of weeks, he opened his eyes and looked at me. He said he was hungry, and…" Hawke paused dramatically. "That his ploy for cats had succeeded."

Nearly spitting out his ale, Varric set his cup down onto the table, hard enough that someone at the neighboring table jumped and looked over at them. "No! No way, Hawke." He started laughing. "No way. I don't believe you."

"Hey, you could ask him yourself if you… well. Ever talked to him."

"I'd buy him a drink for that comeback."

"Well, don't get too excited." Hawke winced. He wouldn't be able to explain the rest of it, not to Varric, but he'd always remember. Anders's eyes sparked blue, and Justice shifted into his place. He apologized to Hawke, who didn't flinch, but just kept running his fingers over his cheeks. We're going to have to work together, Hawke told him. For all of our sakes. Justice agreed. "We said a lot of apologies. Anders, me, and Justice."

"Justice… apologized to you."

Hawke nodded. "Yes. Then Anders preceded to eat his weight in broccoli."

"Bullshit. He hates the stuff."

"Apparently that changed." Hawke shrugged. "He was still Anders, but… he was Justice, too. Not locked into a fight, but some kind of coexisting. And vegetarian." Hawke winced.

"That's… Hawke. You've got to be shitting me." Hawke I know you're shitting me. Vegetarian?"

"I cannot tell a lie on this one, Varric." It had been the least of the oddities that had followed. There had been a lot of fights in the meantime, trying to determine who had dominance when, how they managed to rebuild some sort of life. Hawke would never be able to explain out loud what it really meant to move forward from that moment, but he didn't have to. That crossed the line of where no one else beyond Hawke, Anders, and Justice needed to know. It had been like falling in love with the man all over again, but now going into it knowing what he was in for… and accepting it, fully. He felt that he'd done Justice a great disservice by not recognizing the degree to which he had a relationship with them both. They had been merged so long that there was not one without the other. Hawke made the decision to love them both. He would never admit that to Varric. "But by their nature, they needed something to fight towards. Other than not eating cows, which we had to all compromise on."

"Don't tell me you're a vegetarian, too?"

"Oh fuck no." Hawke winced. "I'd do just about anything for him, but that compromise was that the rest of us kept eating meat, but make an honest effort to eat… some other stuff." He made a face. "If I see another piece of spinach I might lose my mind, but…" Hawke shrugged. "It's a small price to pay, in the big picture. They settled on helping the Wardens find a cure for the Taint. The Wardens have done a lot for mages that otherwise would have been made Tranquil, or killed." It wasn't always perfect, but time had taught him that Anders and Justice had the ability to learn who needed to be in the forefront when, and that Hawke had to trust them. They'd worked out a balance, the three of them. "They determined that coming home to the Wardens was a worthy cause."

"And has there been any progress on that cure?"

"After a fashion. They've determined that there's some tie to the Fade that's gotten them closer to a solution, which has made Justice a valuable resource." Hawke downed more of his second drink, wishing the ale would go to his head faster. "So, here we are. I learned to forgive. I had to fall in love with him all over again. We had a chance to have that without the pressure of Kirkwall." He looked at Varric. "I don't ask you to forgive him. He wouldn't ask it of you, either. What happened there had to happen, somewhere, or the problem would get pushed under the rug over and over. For what it's worth, he's sorry it was Kirkwall."

"Not as sorry as I am."

"You don't even have to give him a chance. I just need you to understand that things are very different now, and Kirkwall is very far away. We've spent some time traveling and healing, like he used to do with the clinic. He doesn't ask for anything." Hawke couldn't bring himself to tell Varric that he'd come to the eventual conclusion that it wasn't Justice or Anders that corrupted the other – it was that the injustices done to mages corrupted them both, combined with the impact of the Taint.

Varric sighed. "Fine. If I ever see him again, I won't shoot him. Fair enough?"

"Good enough for me." Hawke leaned back, content with that for now. "You asked if I could be happy. And Varric…" He took a deep breath and looked at his friend, who looked back at him and smiled. "You asked if I could really be happy, and the answer to that is that I can be, and I am. It's the hardest thing to be away from him, to tell you the truth. I wasn't sure I'd be coming back, and I feel like perhaps my work here isn't done. I still feel as if-"

A commotion from near the entrance caused him to pause and look over, as his and Alistair's mabari edged their way around tables to where he and Varric sat.

"Fang! Akeva! They'll let anyone in here!" Hawke grinned as the two mabari made their way through the tavern, with the Inquisitor in tow. The dogs jumped up, one on each side of him, and started licking his face. "Hey now, hey, I just showered a couple of days ago. You're getting slobber in my beard." He didn't push them away, though. Wrapping an arm around each dog, he pulled them into a hug.

Varric held up his mug. "Well, they let you in, Hawke! Inquisitor! Welcome!" He handed the mug to her. "I'll get another one."

He got up to get another drink, and Zaire sat down across from Hawke, pushing back her hood and taking a drink of the ale. "Can you explain why there's two mabari roaming Skyhold?"

"Only two? Sounds like a slow night." Hawke let go of the dogs and settled for scratching them behind their ears in turn. "This is my mabari, Fang," he said, indicating the mabari Zaire had found outside of the tavern. "And this is Akeva. She's… she was…" He picked up the second drink that had arrived and slammed a good portion of it, setting the mug down hard, then threw both arms around Akeva.

"Alistair's."

"It should have been me." Hawke scratched behind Akeva's ears more. "I'm sorry, girl. I tried to talk him out of that stupid shit but we both know how reasoning with him goes."

Akeva whined softly and sat down, putting her head in Hawke's lap.

"You seem awfully familiar with her," Zaire observed.

"Living together in one keep will do that to you." He dropped a hand onto Akeva's back, running it over her fur. "I'm used to smelling like wet dog."

"Oh, I'm sure Blondie loves that," Varric added, bringing back two more ales and putting one in front of Hawke. He sat down next to Zaire.

"I'm not sure I follow." Zaire wrapped her hands around the mug.

"Picture a bunch of Wardens and a pack of dogs. Now add me." His hand stayed on Akeva's back. Poor girl. I'm so sorry.

Fang crawled under the table to come up on the other side of Varric, sitting next to him. He reached a paw up and copied Varric's stance, glancing sideways at him. "Are you mocking me?" Varric asked.

Tongue hanging out, Fang looked over at him and Hawke started laughing. "Good boy." He looked over at Zaire on Varric's other side. "Where did you pick up these louts?" He didn't want to let himself get too much hope, but if they were here, it meant that Audra was also here, and possibly Anders. Although that, certainly, would have its own complications. He started to wonder if it meant that there was a chance that Alistair lived. If anyone could outdo a giant spider demon, it would be a man that survived an archdemon.

"I'm not sure." The dwarf's Marcher accent always surprised him. "I assumed one was Alistair's. She… Akeva, you said?" Hawke nodded. "She found Blackwall and I, and looked sad about… well." Zaire shrugged.

"Oh so you two are talking again?" Varric asked. "Good for you!"

Hawke chuckled, winking. "Maybe they weren't talking, Varric."

"Talking," Zaire said firmly, sipping at her ale and looking at Hawke over the cup. "For now."

Varric started laughing. "Will you stop talking to him, or will Dennett be back to wondering why the horses are-"

"Varric," Zaire warned, shaking her head. "I think we've got bigger things going on than that. I'd like to get back to the question about roaming mabari in Skyhold."

Hawke realized that he wasn't entirely sure, either. "I was serious when I said I'd expect three. Fang, Akeva, Diablo are almost always together."

"Diablo?" Zaire asked.

"Audra's."

The dwarf sighed. "Then that confirms what I think is happening. I just don't know why."

"We probably won't figure it out waiting here." Hawke pushed the rest of his drink towards Varric. "Think you can handle this for me?"

"Can I handle another drink?" Varric snorted. "When did you become such a lightweight?"

"If I had to guess, probably about the time I stumbled around in the woods for months." Hawke tried to force a smile but didn't entirely feel it. If Audra had come to Skyhold, something big was happening. And was Anders with her? He wanted to ask the dogs, but also didn't want to tip Varric off if that were the case. He'd take him at his word that he wouldn't make an issue of it, but there was a big space between talking about Anders and actually seeing Anders.

"Sure you don't want me to come with you?" Varric asked.

"Let me figure out what the hell is happening, and I'll let you know." Zaire finished the ale and set the cup down, getting to her feet. "Well, then, let's go work it out."

Hawke lead the way out of the tavern, looking at her after they'd passed through the door and were into the open. "Are you worried she'll be mad about Alistair?"

"Why wouldn't she be mad? She asked me to look after him. And I cocked that up."

"We can both own that, then." He pulled his hood up over his head, although the rain had slowed to almost nothing. "That should have been me."

"We can debate who should have been left behind, or we can get this over with." She looked over at Hawke. "I think he's alive, Hawke."

"Coming here to mount a rescue would be more Audra's style than anger," Hawke commented. He didn't add that a rescue effort changes everything, at least in regards to Anders. He couldn't imagine a scenario where Audra came to rescue Alistair and didn't bring Anders with her. However, Anders's presence at Skyhold would be an issue for certain, and Hawke wasn't ready to open that can of worms. "Let's get to Audra. Ok, dogs, show us the money."

"You said you expected one other dog?"

"Diablo. I assume he's with Audra, but…" He paused, hearing shouting. "Something's up."

Zaire came to a stop and listened. "That doesn't sound good."

A dwarf scout came out of the darkness towards them and Zaire hailed her. "Harding, do you know what's going on?"

Harding looked grim. "Inquisitor. One of the patrols just came back. Hit hard by Venatori. Five injured." She winced. "Burns."

"Damnit." Zaire frowned. "We're stretched too damn thin. I'll put out a call for more supplies. Give them everything we've got."

Hawke hoped against all hope that Anders wouldn't come out of hiding if he were here…

On the other hand, he wouldn't be the man that Hawke loved if he didn't.

Over his shoulder, a voice said softly, "The hurt peels away like a burn, one becomes two or two become one… or are three now two? Blinded by the blue. Whole."

Hawke swore and looked over his shoulder at Cole. "Cole, what did I say about sneaking up on me?" It happened frequently enough that Hawke had come to be used to it, especially as Cole always had something insightful to say that made Hawke miss Anders. Cole seemed to have an uncanny grasp of the situation.

Cole stilled and peered at Hawke from under his hat. "The lyrium burned in them, they hurt us. We can't be them. Be more." He looked out towards the infirmary. "Spirit calls to spirit." He looked back to Hawke. "We answer the call to fix the hurt."

He'd had enough conversations with Cole to be able to parse that, and it didn't bode well. He swore a couple of more times for good measure. Without a doubt, Anders and Justice were in Skyhold. "Take me there."

Nodding, Cole started towards the infirmary. Zaire shook her head. "Hawke. I'm going to put this together as being a comment about being hurt by Templars. The implication is…"

"Yes. That's exactly what he implied." Something told him this was about to go horribly wrong. He set his mouth in a grim line as they followed Cole into the darkness.


	9. Compelled To Help

"And that's how I ended up traveling with the Hero of Ferelden," Anders finished.

Kieran grinned. "What happened to the rest of the Wardens? And to Justice?"

"That's… a story for another time." Anders smiled at the boy. "I can't tell you the whole story right now, that would leave us with nothing to talk about later."

There is another spirit here, Justice told Anders, causing Anders to fall silent.

Where? Is everything okay?

No. The spirit is a spirit of compassion. He appears in distress. There are people who are hurt.

Anders saw the crackle of blue flash across his hand and tried to hide it from Kieran. The boy was too sharp, however, and he looked from Anders' hand to his face. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Your hand…"

Nodding, Anders shook his hand out. He didn't bother trying to have a conversation with Justice if they should go help or not. They both knew they had to, without needing to discuss it. I'm about to do something very stupid. "I'm fine. But I think someone needs my help. Where would people go if they're hurt?"

"The infirmary. I could take you there." He stood up, his eyes narrowing as he studied Anders intently. "You're spirit. Like Cole, but not like Cole."

Cole is the other spirit here, Justice supplied.

Thanks. "I doubt it's quite the same, but it's also a long story. I'll explain later."

"You have a lot to explain later." Kieran looked up at him. "You're not just telling me that to make me stop asking questions, are you?"

"Maybe. But it doesn't mean I'm never giving you answers." He fished out a leather strap from his bag and tied his hair back into a rough tail. "I think I've got to do some healing first."

Justice spoke up. Hawke will not be pleased at the risk.

Getting his cloak out of his bag, Anders threw it over his shoulders and pulled the hood up tight over his face. Hawke will understand. It's everyone else I'm worried about. With any luck, no one here will recognize us. He pulled on gloves so that he could hide his hands if needed, although he'd need to take them off to heal.

Luck has nothing to do with it, Justice warned.

Kieran picked up his own cloak and pulled it on, starting for the door. He stopped for a moment, turning back to Anders. "Is Justice inside of you?"

This child is too smart for his, or my, own good. "Yes. He is. We… we merged after what happened."

"What's it like?"

This was the question that Anders hated to answer the most. "It's… complicated."

"You'll explain later?" Kieran said with a knowing smile.

"Something like that, yes." Anders gestured towards the door.

Audra had said Cullen is here, Justice said, and Anders's stomach tied up in a knot. The last thing he needed was a Templar, especially that Templar. Or former Templar, he supposed.

Here's hoping we don't run into him, then.

Kieran led him outside, Diablo following them both, and they headed through the garden and along the edges of the keep. "If you could do me a favor, Kieran… could not you not mention my name?"

"I won't." He glanced over at Anders. "We all know about Kirkwall. Mother teaches me… a lot."

"Oh." Anders pulled his hood tighter over his face.

"Mother is an apostate. She says that people would be afraid of me, too, if they knew everything."

"A part of you is very old, is it not?" Justice asked.

"That's how it feels." Kieran studied his face. "You're blue again."

Anders felt suddenly self conscious. "It… happens." We're not home, Justice. We're going to need to keep that down, as much as I hate it, too.They'd become too used to casually slipping to the surface; with the Wardens, everyone became used to it. Here? Anders didn't even want to think about what would happen.

Anders heard the shouts before they reached the infirmary, and he picked up the pace. All he had to do was blend in with the other mages and healers, it should be very easy to just sneak in, heal, and fade back into the darkness. Simple.

People ran in and out of the infirmary, shouting and carrying supplies, and Anders paused before edging into the chaos. "Why don't you take Diablo and head back to your room?" he asked, looking down at Kieran. "Something tells me your mother won't be happy if I'm dragging you all around the keep, and we didn't let her know you were going."

Kieran nodded. "I'll let her know what's happening."

"Thanks." Anders smiled at him and turned, edging past a scout near the door.

I like the boy named Kieran, Justice observed.

Me, too. He melted back into a corner, getting his bearings. There were a lot of people there, and he tried to evaluate who was hurt worst so that he knew where to focus his effort.

"Over here," a voice said softly over his shoulder. A young man was hunched over, his large hat obscuring his face. "Burning, so hot. Am I still on fire?" He wandered towards a cot where two healers placed their hands on an unconscious woman, her clothing melted to her under her armor. Anders followed him. As he watched, the mages started healing the woman, but he knew it wouldn't be enough to save her.

He stepped up and slid in next to one of them, taking off his gloves. "I've got this." He looked down at the woman and carefully removed her helmet, setting it aside. "We're going to take care of you." Laying his hands on her arm, he looked over at the other mage. "She could wake up and start screaming. Do you have a piece of leather you can put into her mouth for her to bite down on?"

The other man nodded and started pulling supplies out of a bag. "I can start treating the wounds, if you can heal."

"Thank you." Anders didn't bother telling him it wouldn't be necessary to do much treating of her wounds. "You'll also need to start getting this armor off of her, when I give the word." The woman's skin felt hot to his fingers, and he looked at her face as he reached out and pulled from the Fade. His connection to Justice meant that he had more power at his disposal, but it meant that he risked being discovered.

He wove the power into a healing spell and let it pass from his fingers and into the woman. He shifted his hands over her, instinctively searching for damage and pouring it into her. First, the pain, but she may not realize she wasn't still on fire until-

She awoke, arching her back in pain as she bit down on the leather. Anders could hear her cries and he kept working. The best thing he could do for her is to heal her quickly. Skin knit together where the burns had split it, causing the burnt skin to fall off and away. "Armor, now."

The other mage jumped into action, and the mage across from him realized that the woman was healing rapidly, but he'd hardly done anything. He stared at Anders, who tucked his head down farther under his hood and kept his focus on the woman.

"Hey, are you going to help or stare?" the first mage asked, and the second one pulled his hands away and started unbuckling the warrior's armor, letting her regenerating skin breathe. They were efficient and their hands were steady, and Anders found himself impressed with how coordinated they were when they weren't staring at him. He'd love to mentor mages like these.

Anders watched the woman's eyes roll back in her head. "Almost there. I've got you." The damage was extensive, the burns covering most of her body. But he'd healed worse.

Bleeding stopped, and soon the screaming stopped. She breathed raggedly, desperately, but she breathed. Anders pulled his hands away, the glow fading from them, and reached for a blanket from a nearby table. He pulled it over her and touched her forehead. "Keep the wound sites clean. After the rest of the skin has fallen away, get her on a clean sheet. She will have minimal scarring if you keep pouring more healing into her, but she needs a break, her body can only take so much of this."

"We'll take it from here." One of the mages laid a hand on her forehead, smoothing her hair back. "We've got you."

Anders placed a hand on the woman's arm. "You're in good hands."

The rush of it coursed through the combined entity that was Anders and Justice.

She has fought hard and now she can rest, Justice said.

There are more to go. Anders was already in motion, moving to the next one.

"Healing the hurts on them heals the hurts inside," the young man said again. Anders hadn't realized he was still there, and felt unnerved by the accuracy of the statement. Then again, Justice had pointed out that a spirit named Cole was here.

"Cole, I presume?" he asked. The young man nodded. "If there's someone that needs my help the most, let me know. Otherwise, I'll go from patient to patient."

Cole nodded. "The rest are about the same. Not as bad." He looked back at the first woman. "She shielded the others."

Of course she did. Anders's heart hurt for the woman, but he had no time to stop. More patients were waiting.

He worked in an almost trance from that point onward, blocking out the distractions. The other mages started to work around him, bringing him what he needed.

Between the third and fourth victims, Cole suddenly put a hand on his arm. "These are his men. He is coming to see if they are alright." He looked up. "I'll let him know." Cole rushed from the room, and Anders kept healing, hoping he could finish the last two and get out of there soon. Whoever was coming, it warranted Cole telling him, and as such, he didn't want to find out why that was important.

The last one was an elven scout, her hands burned. She wept. "My fingers, I can't feel my fingers." Her fingers were curled up, her gloves burnt mostly away.

"Archer?" Anders asked, taking her hands in his and holding them, pouring the energy into her. She nodded, looking up at him. "You'll shoot again. I promise." He didn't make that promise lightly, but he could already tell that he'd be able to heal the damage almost completely.

When he finished healing her, he set her hands down on her chest and smiled. He realized she was staring at him. At his face. No doubt he glowed blue from Justice's connection to the Fade, from the lines that blurred when they healed. His time with the Wardens had made him too sloppy, too open.

He pulled the hood down over his head further, but it was too late. Others had seen, and the whispers started. He had to get out of there. Now.

"I don't know who you are, but you just saved five of my best. Thank you." A hand landed on his shoulder and a cold knot settled in Anders's gut. Across the years, across Thedas, he would recognize that voice anywhere.

There would be no escaping this.

But he'd sure try. "Thank you, ser," Anders answered, lowering his head. "I'm just doing my service to the Inquisition."

Why are you polite? Do you know who this is? Justice asked, boiling under the surface.

Of course I know who it is! Anders drew a breath. A memory flooded back to him, of Kirkwall. Mages cannot be treated like people, they are not like you and me. He needed to get out of there, at least long enough to let him process it. To make a plan.

He pushed past Cullen but the other stepped to the side with him. Anders realized that he hadn't put back on his gloves, and his hands had started to glow. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he pulled his hands under his cloak but he already knew it would be too late. Cullen couldn't have missed that.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cullen put one hand on his sword and take a step back. "No." The former Templar's voice shook. "You cannot be here."

"Tell that to the men I just saved," he shot back, standing up straighter but keeping his face covered.

"I will not have the Butcher of Kirkwall in Skyhold!" Cullen started to draw his sword.

Anders shifted so that Cullen could see his face. "I'd consider your next move carefully, Cullen." He raised his hands; both glowed blue. "We can both walk away now."

The former Templar paled but did not back down. "Is that a threat, apostate?"

"It's whatever you want it to be. You're not going to listen anyway." On the outside, Anders liked to think his voice remained calm, but under the surface, he and Justice seethed. Memories of Kirkwall that they'd managed to bury in the last four years away from it all started to surface. It would be so easy to lash out at him. So easy to…

We are better than this, they thought in unison.

"Do you think I can let you walk away, when you've never stood trial for your crimes? Guards!" he barked. Two guards approached cautiously; Anders could tell one was a former Templar just by their stance. "Arrest this man."

They started forward, but the elf scout beside him groaned and sat up. "No." She held up her hand. "Look at this, Commander. Look. I shouldn't have been able to shoot again. This man saved me." She turned to Anders and reached out her hands, turning them over for all to see. "Thank you, ser. I'm in your debt." Anders could see the tears in her eyes and he fought to breathe. This is why he'd come here. Why he'd never given up on healing. The blue faded from his hands.

The guards stopped and looked to Cullen. "Commander?" one asked, eyes shifting from the woman to Anders to his commander.

Cullen kept his hand on his sword, shaking his head. Fury crept into his voice. "Arrest. This. Man."

Anders clenched his teeth. He could pull a spell together, but he'd risk hurting innocents. "You will not take me," he growled.

"Stop!"

Whoever yelled, the guards listened and stepped back, saluting. Anders turned to see a copper haired dwarf enter, with Hawke and the two mabari in tow. This must be the Inquisitor. Would she be ally or enemy? What did she know of him? Anders looked at Hawke and nodded, hiding his relief at how glad he was to see them both. Hawke shook his head, a silent warning to Anders. A warning he didn't need; he knew how delicate the situation had become.

"Commander. Stand down."

"I will not stand down, Inquisitor!" Cullen drew his sword. "Do you know who this man is?"

"A man that you will not kill on sight." She strode to his side and put a hand on his arm. "The Inquisition is better than this, Cullen. You are better than this."

Anders watched a bead of sweat edge down Cullen's forehead, and recognized that he had to be going through lyrium withdrawal. He wanted to tell Cullen that he forgave him, as Audra had, for his crimes against mages. That he understood how much more complicated the situation had been, more than he'd understood. Kirkwall made victims out of us all.

Instead, he brought himself up to his full height and flicked back his hood. "Is this what you want, Cullen? To expose me to everyone in Skyhold?"

"Cullen." The Inquisitor shook her head. "Put the sword down and stop. Step away."

Cullen glowered at the Inquisitor but stepped back, sheathing his sword. "You can't be serious. You can't let him walk free."

"Let me be the judge of that." The dwarf walked up to them both, inserting herself between them. "Cole," she called over her shoulder. "Help me out here. What do you see? Are we in danger?"

"Surely you can't be serious?" Cullen asked, staring.

The Inquisitor ignored him and waited for Cole to ghost his way up to her shoulder. "Scars, so many scars. No, don't hurt me again, don't… we'll make you Tranquil for this, boy." Cole shuddered but looked at Anders.

Stay calm. Anders breathed slowly and tried to calm the fight or flight response that still held him in place.

"Templars. Mages. All victims. The circles are all broken." Cole moved to Anders's side, almost touching him but not quite. "No one listened. Drastic but necessary. With the bandages ripped off, now the wounds can stop festering and heal." He looked down at the Inquisitor. "We are in no danger."

She nodded and turned back to Cullen. "I think there is a larger conversation we need to have here. I don't doubt that. But at the moment, five of our men have been healed from a Venatori attack."

"That doesn't undo what he's done," Cullen said, pointing to Anders.

"Nothing can undo what I've done." Anders took a step forward. "But I could argue that you wouldn't be here right now if your order hadn't been shaken to the core, too. Everyone was corrupt. Everyone hurt. You knew it, and you didn't-"

"Enough." The Inquisitor shook her head. "We aren't having this out in here." She looked around. "Anders, I presume?"

He nodded. "At your service, Inquisitor."

"Zaire Cadash. Zaire is fine." She reached out a hand to shake his in a confident grip that didn't show any fear towards him.

Cullen crossed his arms. "I'm not letting him out of my sight."

"Like to watch, then?" Hawke quipped, coming around and putting his arm on Anders's shoulder. "Hello, love. Always one for an entrance, hrm?"

Anders snorted. "It… wasn't my plan." He wanted nothing more than to hug Hawke, but the scene in the infirmary was already getting to be overwhelming. He and Justice were both starting to feel restless. As if Hawke could tell, he planted a gentle kiss on Anders' lips and stepped back, taking his hand. It grounded him while giving him space.

Zaire sighed. "Here's what's going to happen. Anders – for your own safety, I'm putting you in the care of two of our guards. One will have a Templar ability to nullify you. One will be a mage that can take that one down, if you are in any danger. You have to understand the situation you've put me in, but my intent is to ensure your safety as well as the Inquisition's security. Is this a suitable solution?"

Anders looked at Hawke. "Can I trust this?"

"Yeah." Hawke grinned in that cocky way that he did. "I wouldn't trust her in a game of cards or a drinking game, but she'll take care of you."

Nodding, Anders looked to Zaire. "Then it's fine. Not the reunion I'd hoped for." He squeezed Hawke's hand. He wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to show him how much he'd just missed him. To convey the relief he and Justice both felt on seeing him. There'd be time for that later.

"Me, either." Hawke chuckled and looked at the guards in the infirmary. "But I don't know, we could give the guards a show?"

Zaire looked to Cullen. "Cullen?"

He threw his hands in the air, and Anders felt certain it was the farthest from his sword his hands had been since he had seen Anders. "Fine. I pick the Templar."

"I pick the mage." Zaire jutted her chin out.

"Fair." Cullen looked to one of the scouts in the room. "Get Jonathan." He looked down at Zaire. "Your mage?"

Zaire looked over at the scout. "Dorian Pavus. You'll likely find him-"

"We know where he is, Inquisitor," the scout said, giving Cullen a look that Anders couldn't entirely understand.

But if the look on his face were any indication, whoever this "Dorian Pavus" was, Cullen did not approve of the choice. "Surely there's another, Inquisitor-"

"None other I trust to match Jonathan."

A silent challenge went between them, one that Zaire seemed to win. "Fine. Dorian it is."

"Fantastic." She strode past Cullen. "Your office, Cullen. We need to have a conversation. As soon as Jonathan and Dorian are both here." She stepped back around to walk from the infirmary, and Anders heard her directing the two mabari to find their other master and bring her back to Hawke and Anders.

Audra would not be pleased, either.


	10. Then Be Better

Halfway to Cullen's office, Zaire passed Dorian headed to the infirmary with the scout. He stopped her as she started towards Cullen's office. He frowned at her, a mixture of confusion and annoyance. "Zaire, what in Thedas is going on? One minute I'm relaxing, considering a bottle of wine, then the Venatori light people on fire, and now I'm told I'm being sent to guard an apostate mage?"

"I'm sorry, Dorian." She put a hand on his arm and looked up at him. "I didn't know who else I could trust."

His eyes narrowed. "You've got that look on your face again. Trust to do what, exactly?"

"We have a… visitor." She hated that the situation left her fighting for words. A lot had happened in a very short amount of time, and the events were ones that would only serve as a distraction to the Inquisition, and that concerned her. "A few visitors, in fact." She winced. She wasn't even yet aware if others had also arrived along with Audra Amell and Anders. "And a lot of dogs."

"Ah yes. The dogs. We suddenly seem more Ferelden than usual." He shook out his robes, straightening them. "Can I assume you've encountered the charming Hero of Ferelden already then?"

Zaire felt a rock settle in her stomach, followed by a twinge of irritation. One she had no intention of taking out on Dorian as it wasn't his fault. "Am I the only one unaware of her presence in Skyhold?"

Dorian blinked. "I assume she would have found you by now."

"I've been in the barn." Dorian would know what that meant, and it was a way for her to admit it without trying to say Blackwall's name and having her voice waver.

He put a hand on a shoulder. "Good on you."

"Thanks." She sighed. "I need your help guarding one of the guests, a mage that healed some of the wounded."

"And this mage needs guarding why?"

Damnit, Dorian was always too perceptive. "He could be perceived as a threat."

"Ah. I see." He nodded. "You realize that the obvious conclusion here is that it's Hawke's husband. The one that blew up Kirkwall. Varric is stillmad."

"Shit." She glared at him. "Do not tell Varric about this."

"The secret is safe with me." Dorian sighed. "Cullen can't be taking this well. I'll talk to him later."

"Might be good. For now, you can start with heading to the infirmary. The only way I could keep the situation from escalating is to set a Templar and a mage on him." She left out the part where Cullen tried to kill Anders. "A Templar of Cullen's choice to nullify him, and-"

"A mage that not only could take down a Templar, but would without fear." He put his hand on his chest. "Such as myself."

Zaire nodded. "I'm sorry. I know you probably had other plans for the night, but… so did we all, I think."

Dorian smiled and reached up to smooth his moustache. "I've got this. Cullen probably assigned fucking Jonathan." He rolled his eyes. "He doesn't stand a chance." He winked and headed off towards the infirmary, and Zaire headed to Cullen's office to wait.

Once there, she found the remains of Cullen's dinner, and was glad at the least he'd eaten something before this ordeal began. On the shelf behind his desk, she saw the box that contained the lyrium. They'd had a conversation before Adamant, of him going off of the lyrium and she was getting concerned that it was a conversation they'd have to have again. If Cullen was on lyrium, he'd feel he would have nothing to fear from Anders, Zaire was sure.

What a disaster. Zaire paced the room, realizing that it felt overly warm. No doubt Dorian's influence, as Cullen would end up just end up putting on more damned fancy cloaks to keep warm.

After a few minutes, Cullen opened the door and closed it behind him. As soon as he was in the room, he made his way shakily to his chair and sat down, putting his elbows on the desk and covering his face. Zaire realized he was shaking and she suddenly felt a pang of regret. What Cullen probably needed was Dorian, and she'd taken that option away from him entirely.

"Cullen," she said, taking a seat across from him. "I need to know you're okay."

"Do I look okay?" He looked up at her, his eyes rimmed with red. "You should have let me continue the lyrium."

"So you wouldn't feel so powerless?" She shook her head and her palms on his desk. She traced the wood grain with her fingers. "No way, Cullen. You're stronger than that. You don't need the lyrium to be in charge."

He frowned and it almost twisted into a sneer. "No, I have you to overrule my decisions."

Zaire flattened her hands on his desk and stared at him across the surface. "You don't get to pull that card, Cullen. You were out of line. You are not judge, jury, and executioner." She leaned forward in her chair. "You chose to leave that behind you. We agreed to be better than that."

Cullen gestured in the vague direction of the infirmary. "That was before that… abomination appeared in Skyhold. Clearly, Audra hid that from me, which I can't even begin to explain-"

"Is it worse than the commander of your forces failing to inform you that the Hero of Ferelden has entered Skyhold, more than likely with the intent of rescuing her supposedly dead husband from the Fade?" She glared at him. "Because from where I'm standing, that's a neglect of duty, Commander."

The edge of Cullen's mouth twitched. "Leave her out of this. I asked to be relieved from duty, Inquisitor. You, and Cassandra, denied my request. Would you like to revisit it?" He reached behind him and picked up the box, setting it on the desk between them hard enough that he rattled the contents. "Would you like me to be back on the lyrium so that I can stay in control of these situations?"

"No." Zaire slammed her fist down, startling Cullen and rattling the half empty plate of food. "I want you to grow the fuck up. No lyrium. I get that this has dredged up some horrible memories for you. And I understand that." She stabbed a finger at him. "But I need you to keep it together. I'm aware that Anders could be a threat, but I need you to understand that his purpose here is obvious."

"Is it?" Cullen asked, shoving the box to the side.

"If you'd look past your own nose, you'd know that." She took a deep breath. "Did Amell tell you that Alistair could be alive."

He froze, staring at her. "Yes…"

"And if that's the case, will they need the best healer in Thedas?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "One that just healed five of yours that were nearly burned alive, without breaking a sweat?"

Cullen covered his face with his hands. "He heals like that because he's an abomination, Zaire."

She didn't yet entirely understand the implications of that in Anders's case but decided to ask Hawke or Anders himself about it. "Call him what you want. He might be Alistair's best chance at surviving." She stood and reached out across the desk to pull a hand away from his face. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

He yanked his hand away from her. "Then why did you send Dorian with the one person that could tell him the truth about the person I was?"

The truth of the statement sunk in, and Zaire recaptured his hand and wrapped hers around it. She hadn't thought of that, and now that she did she'd wished she'd picked someone else. On the other hand, there was only so long that Cullen could pretend to protect Dorian from Cullen's own past. Dorian was far more clever for that. "Do you think Dorian doesn't know? Cullen, I'm sorry to say, but everyone knows the rumors about you. Every single mage here knows not just about Kirkwall, but that you were at Kinloch Hold."

"Dorian doesn't look at me like I'm the man who did those things." He scrubbed at his face with his free hand. "I can't lose him, Zaire."

"Give him more credit than that. You may not like to hear it, but no one thinks you're innocent. They follow you because they respect you and see the person you are now."

"You mean the person who just threatened to kill an apostate in the infirmary in front of everyone?" Cullen shook his head. "Hardly a shining example."

"Then be better. We've all fucked up." Letting go of his hand, she backed away from the desk. "When you're feeling less sorry for yourself, ask me about the guilt I carry." She gestured towards the door. "I'm gathering everyone in the war room. Let's get this over with. I need to know that you can keep it together, Cullen. Are you with me?"

He rose from his chair, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Zaire waited for him to open them. When he did, he stood straighter, and picked up the box of lyrium and put it on the shelf behind him. She could see his bearing shift to the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, and that was what they needed him to be. Later, they would discuss removing that box entirely.

"I'm with you, Inquisitor," he said, the crisp voice of command now back in his tone.

"Good to have you. As always." Zaire left the room, heading towards to the war room. She trusted that Cullen would follow and started out across the courtyard.


End file.
